Introspective
by nek0-sama
Summary: Everyone has a story. This is the story of a boy revered by his classmates. Now he has to find his own way on the road to adulthood, facing all of the struggles that come with finding yourself alongside his two best friends. As told by Troy Bolton. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Introspective

Chapter 1

My name is Troy Alexander Bolton. I'm nineteen years old. In high school, I was revered as the king of the basketball court. Admittedly, I wasn't too bad at singing and dancing, either. Versatility was just one of many blessings that I was fortunate enough to have throughout my high school career. I was also extraordinarily popular.

AndI _loathed_ it. Why people worshipped me for supposedly resembling a Greek god, and for being able to dribble, shoot, and dunk a ball, I'll never know. Aside from being the team captain, and the whole resemblance to a marble statue thing, my skills were really no greater than those of any of my teammates.

My greatest assets, however, are my two best friends. Everyone has at least one. I must have done something noble in a past life to deserve two.

One of those friends is Chad Danforth. He and I have known each other since preschool. He helped me to hone my skills at the sport my dad loves. The sport that somehow made me a god among our high school peers.

I have many fond memories of Chad and me sneaking around, pressing ourselves to walls, diving behind couches, and ducking under coffee tables to avoid detection. In our minds, we were secret agents, cool as K and J, as suave as James Bond and packing as much, "mojo", as Austin Powers, only without the bad teeth, the hairy chest, and the, "groovy", British accent. I was King Arthur and Chad was Sir Lancelot, and we rode off to slay the dragon, save the princess, and defend Camelot.

-Number 14-

In middle school, Chad enlisted me to help him woo this girl, a supposedly cute French exchange student. Back then, I had no idea how to recognize when a girl was attractive. I guess you could say I was kind of a late bloomer. Anyway, Chad asked me to write a poem for this girl. I compared the green of her eyes to, "the emerald grass beneath us as I sweep you off your feet". Needless to say, she laughed at him, and ended up rejecting him for the poor kid with braces who was mocked for being a teacher's pet. I felt terrible, but Chad didn't blame me. Instead, he decided that poetry was for, "wusses", anyway. I later consoled Chad by informing him that his bushy afro, which is honestly the coolest hairstyle I've ever seen, and probably the reason I approached him in the first place back in preschool, was too cool for _Genevieve Belrose_.

When we graduated from the eighth grade, we went up to my tree house, our childhood sanctuary, shook up cans of root beer, and doused each other with the fizzy, sugary spray in celebration. Chad had already made up his mind that high school girls were more mature, and would appreciate his charms more than our middle school classmates could. I humored him. I wasn't so much looking forward to playing the dating field, as I was looking forward to growing up. The future was full of possibilities, and entering high school opened the door to so many of them.

-Playmaker-

My freshman year, I met the Evans twins, Ryan and Sharpay. They were both blond, and dressed in outfits right off of the pages of a magazine. They had just transferred to our school district after moving from Rhode Island, and were the cause of a ton of gossip. Sharpay savored the attention, fluffing her Barbie Doll blonde curls, talking loudly about herself, and fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously at all of the guys around her. Ryan, meanwhile, hung back, his nose buried in an anthology of poems by Edgar Allen Poe. Occasionally, he'd peer up to listen to his sister. Whenever someone talked to him, however, he jumped, his face paling, which brought out the color of his lips, and then shrunk back into his book.

I remember thinking, _None of the other guys have lips _that_ pink_.

People around me whispered, "Look at how tight his jeans are", and, "No boy has hats that sparkle". I couldn't see the problem with any of that. When that awful three letter "f-word" was spoken, Sharpay's brown eyes gleamed threateningly, and I shared her anger. First of all, I _hate_ that word, along with any other derogatory slur. And, second, how could they be disgusted by Ryan over something like that? So what if he liked tight pants and sparkling hats? It wasn't hurting anyone.

On his way out of homeroom, Ryan was pushed over, thanks to an elbow jab by some guy who was about five times his size. I'm not sure what happened afterwards, but Chad remembers having to hold me back. He claims that I was about to lunge for the asshole who assaulted Ryan, even though the guy hadn't so much as looked at me funny.

-Stick To The Status Quo-

Sophomore year, Chad and I made the basketball team that was headed by none other than my dad. He swears that the fact that I'm his son _didn't _affect his choice to put us on the team. Some of our teammates, however, weren't as quick to agree.

Ryan and Sharpay became co-presidents of the Drama Club, and because sports and performing don't mix, and are part of conflicting social circles, I hardly saw or spoke to either of them. Especially Ryan. Chad grew to intensely dislike Sharpay, referring to her, and Ryan, by extension, as, "overgrown show-dogs".

That didn't stop Sharpay from constantly trying to chat me up whenever she got the chance, however. She was among the girls that suddenly swarmed Chad and me, along with the rest of the team. We were more appealing now that we had positions at the top of the social pyramid. I don't know how many girls asked to be my girlfriend, or to go out with me. While Chad appreciated the attention, letting the girls touch his hair, and fawn over his new letterman, I found excuses to keep the girls from touching me, and turned them all down. I felt bad about rejecting them, because getting shot down by someone you really like is terrible.

Then, I learned that those girls were just blindly following the crowd, and that guilt over hurting their feelings turned into something like nausea.

-Breaking Free-

Junior year, the team elected me captain. My dad was _so_ proud. During winter break, I met Gabriella Montez at a ski resort in Colorado on New Year's Eve, when we were reluctantly paired together for a karaoke duet at a party. When I returned to Albuquerque and East High School, I was surprised to find that she had followed me, due to a transfer through her mother's work.

Gabriella and I, having discovered a love of singing together, something that had nothing to do with basketball, decided: Why not try out for the winter musical together? We ended up tying with the other two who auditioned for the leads; Ryan and Sharpay. Naturally.

Chad and the rest of the guys on the team were not happy about my callback audition. Participation in rehearsals for the audition made me lose focus and miss practices when we had a championship game against our long time rivals at West High in a matter of days. More than that, the basketball guy being in the musical made people believe that they could be more than their clique determined they were capable of. The drama geeks and the brainiacs attempting to mingle with the basketball team wasn't something that Chad could handle. So, Chad and the guys attempted to undermine Gabriella and me.

But, ultimately, my brother from another mother recognized the wrong in what he was doing, and eventually helped us to ace our callback audition. But first, I made _sure _that my teammates and I made amends to Ryan and Sharpay, after realizing that they were trying to "protect themselves" by trying to keep me out of the school musical.

Gabriella and I won the roles of _Twinkle Towne,_-yes, that's really the name of the show_-_ leads, Arnold and Minnie. Sharpay and Ryan wound up being our co-stars. During rehearsals for both our callback audition, and the musical, itself, Gabriella and I got closer. She helped me to realize my love of being on the stage. I helped her to overcome her stage fright. One day, we started holding hands in the hallways at school, and soon, we were inseparable. At some point, we became East High's, "It", couple.

To this day, however, I still don't know for sure which one of us made the first move.

Chad also hooked-up with his co-conspirator; president of the Chemistry Club, Taylor McKessie. Taylor had tried to discourage Gabriella from pursuing a relationship with me, so that Taylor could have Gabriella for the Scholastic Decathlon. Chad confided in me that there aren't any girls like Taylor, and that he totally dug the sexy librarian look, and that lent to the attraction. I gave him my full support. Even though I knew that I was on Taylor's list, for whatever reason.

-Work This Out-

Over the summer, I made sure that we all got jobs together. Unfortunately, they happened to involve working at the country club owned by the Evans family. Sharpay used this opportunity to try to tempt me with the promise of scholarships, knowing how worried I was about my future, in order to get closer to me. I guess I was sort of a prize to be won by her. As I think back on it now, it's funny that her attempts only resulted in driving me _away_ from her, and _toward_ her brother.

I had a falling out with both Chad and Gabriella, due to my dickish behavior from letting the perks of my promotion, and being in the favor of the Evans family, go to my head. And, because of my new Italian shoes. I had treated Chad like less than my best friend, and even less than a co-worker. I was absolutely horrible to him. I missed events that I promised I would attend, and even missed dates with Gabriella. While pursuing that scholarship opportunity, I _ruined _her summer, even after she had expressed that she wanted a summer worth remembering.

It took me a while to come around. My revelation was sped up when I found out that Sharpay had prohibited employees from participating in the talent show. That was the last straw.

I finally realized that I valued my friends over a scholarship. "Brothers fight, but they're still brothers", was what Chad and I said as I apologized to him for being such a jerk. We took each other into a hug. I was surprised that he was so willing to forgive me after the way I had acted. I apologized to the rest of my friends for ruining their participation in the talent show.

While I fulfilled my obligation and performed with Sharpay, I realized exactly what Ryan had to deal with on a regular basis as both Sharpay's brother and her singing partner. Because of that, I had gained a new level of respect for him. And, for the first time, I really, _truly_ spoke to Ryan. I tested the sensation of his name forming in my mouth as I apologized to him, as well, for him going to the trouble of choreographing a show with my fellow Wildcats, only to have his sister selfishly forbid them from performing.

I watched his face light up, his bright pink lips parting to reveal a dazzling smile of bright white teeth with an overbite that can only be described as _adorable_. I felt like I was in love. Ryan and I shook hands, initiating skin-to-skin contact for the first time. I felt a charge between us, and sparks danced along my fingers. Then, just like that, it was over, and he was telling me to sing with his sister, even though I told Sharpay that I wouldn't. I just couldn't say no to Ryan and his blue eyes.

I walked back to find a sobbing and miserable Sharpay, sucked up my pride, and told her I would sing with her, because Ryan had asked me to. I made sure, though, to specify that I would _only_ do the show if the _Wildcats_ could also do the show. Ryan's time and effort, along with whatever accusations Sharpay threw his way for assisting her enemies, would not be moot points if I had anything to say about it.

Sharpay said, "You're a good guy Troy. In fact, I think I like you better than I like myself." Her eyes widened as she remarked, "Did I just say that?" I had to admit to myself then, that she really wasn't _that_ bad. Although she was still incredibly high maintenance, and capable of being utterly _terrifying_.

When I returned to Ryan, he informed me that his sister had changed songs. I told him that I couldn't possibly learn a _new _song before the show, but he seemed more than confident in my abilities, assuring me that Kelsi would help me with it. Kelsi Nielsen, the Drama Club's composer, and a sweet girl who had helped Gabriella and me with our audition, took hold of my hand, and raced off, taking me to the piano in the music room so that I could learn the new song.

Ryan was right. I learned it fairly quickly, and soon found myself being rushed onto the stage. Despite feeling rather empty, I stood front of an audience that had my mom and dad sitting at the front of it, wearing a white suit and blue shirt to match the sky backdrop behind me. After everything that had happened during those weeks, I was finally performing like I had said I would. But, someone important was missing.

I sang my verses and, to my surprise, the voice that joined mine wasn't Sharpay's over-the-top, overbearing, nasal one, but a sweet soprano that I was very familiar with. I looked out past the stage lights, into the crowd, and it parted to reveal dark curls, olive skin, and brown eyes, all on a familiar petite form that was slowly making her way to me.

_Gabriella_. I didn't stop to question how she had gotten there, or how she knew the song, or even why she was _back_ after she had gone days without speaking to me since our break-up. The point was, she was _there_. She reached me, and offered me her hand. I took it. She leaned into me, we pressed our noses together, our voices harmonizing, and just like that, everything was okay again.

Once I had time to think about it, my reunion with Gabriella during the talent show seemed orchestrated. I suspected that Ryan had had a hand in it, with him telling me that his sister had, "switched songs", on me, even though he never owned up to it.

Why he'd do that for me, the guy who demoted him to co-star, I didn't know. But, I did realize that he was totally different, a separate existing entity from his sister. He was so much more than Sharpay's, "poodle", which is what some of the more mean-spirited people at school, including Chad, had referred to him as.

I shared my first kiss with Gabriella under a cascade of water beneath a star-filled sky. It was the perfect romantic set-up; scenic, like something out of a movie. We had finally gotten the summer that we wanted.

-Start Of Something New-

I spent time with Ryan, learning that Sharpay had betrayed him that summer. She had decided to kick him out of his own show, so that she could sing with me. I wanted to take the blame, but he refused to allow that.

With the betrayal of his closest companion stinging him like an open wound, he was an easy target for my all-too-friendly social circle. I guess Gabriella shared my thoughts on Ryan's smile being "dazzling". During our falling out, she seemed pretty quick to try and cozy up to him, looking for comfort.

"She must have missed the memo," Ryan had said with a strange laugh to his voice.

He didn't need to tell me then what he meant. We all sort of knew. The swaying of his hips, his perfectly coordinated flamboyant outfits, his endless supply of hats, and polished fingernails gave it away. But, somehow, it clicked into place, just then. A grin on my face, I playfully nudged him, he nudged me back. My arm tingled, and my stomach fluttered pleasantly.

-Summer Nights-

Chad and Ryan were both in attendance when I had my first beer; a Budweiser, at a party at Lava Springs. I couldn't turn down a dare, after all. The bitter amber liquid washed down my throat, causing it to burn. My vision blurred and my thoughts were clouded. I could feel Ryan next to me, his eyes, the color of a summer sky, watching me intently, their glow brilliant. Chad hung back, unwilling to drink because Taylor frowned upon alcoholic consumption, and because he knew his mom would hand him his ass were he to come staggering through the door with bleary, bloodshot eyes.

After that first beer, I was pretty out of it. After drinking more than half of a second beer, I was smashed. When I staggered, it was Ryan who braced me, his hands on my chest. The touch sent shock waves through me in a way making contact with Gabriella never had. My gaze focused on his lips, and I found myself wondering what they tasted like. I can only hope that I didn't say something idiotic in my half-drunk stupor.

Chad disregarded my sudden attraction to Ryan, dubbing it a, "symptom of inebriation". "You were _drunk_, man. Most guys want _anything_, including other guys, when they're hammered. "

-Now Or Never-

Senior year came, and as the end of the year activities bared down on us, Stanford University began calling Gabriella's name. She was torn between me and our friends, and attending a school worthy of her IQ levels.

I encouraged her to go to Stanford, to follow her dreams. She told me that she was better at saying, "good bye", and then left the next day without so much as one. Chad was busy with Taylor. Ryan was the choreographer of the spring musical, and I was the star of it. Just as Gabriella had done in my absence over the summer, I leaned on the blond boy. And damn, I'm indebted to him for his patience.

Ryan devoted extra time to perfecting my performances, encouraging me with that beautiful smile of his. If he caught me moping, he'd share his lunch with me, he and Kelsi taking up stations, beside me.

I was torn between attending the college my dad wanted me to, alongside Chad, so that I could fulfill my dad's dream of seeing me play in the NBA, or further pursuing my newfound love of performing by going to Juilliard, the prestigious school Ryan and Sharpay seemed destined for.

And, then there was Gabriella, and the fact that I _missed_ her. The fact that we had planned that she would fly in from California to attend our senior prom with me and the rest of our friends, was one of the only things keeping my spirits up.

Ryan and Kelsi's friendship was greatly appreciated, and was the only other thing that put a smile on my face. Especially when Ryan slipped me little fun-size Milky Ways or Reese's Cups, and our fingers brushed together, causing that wonderful tingling.

On the day before the prom, Ryan took me aside to guide me through a simple maneuver that I just _wasn't _getting while dancing with Gabriella's replacement in the show, Sharpay. I spun him around, going through the moves flawlessly. He lent more than he realized to the ease with which we moved. His body fit so naturally between my arms; small, svelte, and curvy.

As I spun him out, he looked into my eyes, his light voice and his expression nothing but encouraging. "See? You've got it."

I couldn't stop myself from leaning into him, watching as his eyes widened and his face lit up simultaneously. "You're easier to dance with than she is," I told him, desperate to make him understand _something_.

There was a charge between us like the one between metal and a magnet. I was locked in his eyes and suddenly, all I wanted was to hold him, to press my mouth longingly against his, run my hands over his body… grab that dangerous tail…. until Sharpay rudely pushed between us, demanding her turn with me. Exasperation filled my body. I felt a slight pang in my chest when I caught a last glimpse of Ryan, and saw a look of dismay on his soft face.

-Can I Have This Dance?-

Like Chad, I later brushed the attraction to Ryan off. I was just stressed, worn out, and Ryan's so beautiful, not to mention supportive, of course I would feel some amount of desire for him. The phone call I got from Gabriella while Chad and I were showing my prom tux off to my mom, reminded me of Gabriella's significance in my life. I was truly ecstatic for first time in weeks.

Until she told me that she couldn't make it to prom and graduation with our friends like we had planned.

My heart dropped like a two ton weight into the pit of my stomach. I wanted to plead with her to come. After all of the wait, after getting my hopes up, I didn't want to believe what I was hearing. She wasn't ready to, "be a little adult", and make adult sacrifices. Coming to see me would have "_hurt_ her too much".

Maybe I should have heeded Chad's advice when he told me to let her go, and to start moving on.

But, she told me she _loved _me. "_I love you, Wildcat". _Those words echoing in my mind decided it.

I drove one thousand fifty-three miles, from Albuquerque, all the way to Stanford, in my unreliable old truck, to bring her prom. To see her. I waited for her in the branches of a tree until she came to me.

She greeted me with, "I don't believe this", and then her signature, "You're crazy, Wildcat."

I presented her with a corsage, and we danced around a huge tree in the campus courtyard as the sun set. We could almost imagine that we were dancing with all of our friends in the decorated gymnasium, back at East High. In fact, I did imagine Ryan dancing past us with Kelsi, staring at me as he went.

Then, Gabriella and I drew each other into a kiss. Or, rather, three kisses. They were all awkwardly chaste, not at all like the passionate ones in the movies, where the actors slip each other tongue and press their bodies together while a blaring romantic score emphasizes everything. But, I was so happy to see Gabriella, to hold her again, just how peculiar that contact was didn't matter. I closed my eyes and went with it.

I managed to convince her to come with me back to East High to perform with our friends one last time. I thought of Ryan's blue eyes sparkling as he saw me, that smile breaking out on his pale face, and how I didn't want to disappoint him after all of the hard work he had put into this show, after all of the work he had done with me, by not showing up. Thinking of Ryan in general, how I used to simply pass him and Kelsi in the hallway at school without a second thought, that, despite this, they had become two of my closest friends, and that I would be saying goodbye to both of them, all too soon, made me incredibly emotional.

My heart raced with the feeling of urgency to get back.

-Gotta Go My Own Way-

I was a puppy loyally following his master. I made the decision to attend the University of California, Berkeley. It offered me the option to take theater and play basketball. Its campus was also 32.7 miles away from Gabriella, the girl that I wasn't sure that I loved, but felt like I needed anyway. I needed her to teach me how to waltz, to help me pick out my clothes, and to make my decisions for me. She, "inspired my heart", after all.

We can be so stupid sometimes.

Unfortunately, Berkeley was 967.3 miles away from my family and Chad. For the first time in our lives, my best friend since preschool, and I, would be attending different schools. I understood that he was upset. I was saddened as well, but I consoled him by informing him that our favorite sport would reunite us soon. Sure, we would be wearing the jerseys of opposing teams, but lingering on that would have hurt too much.

**A/N: **Here it is, the first chapter of my personal canon of the events in the life of one Troy Bolton, following his graduation from East High School. While I realize that this chapter is fairly long, I had to get the recounting of the three movies out of the way to establish the plot. The next chapter will be all from my mind, and as this is written by me, **this story WILL contain slash in future chapters**. If that bothers you, please look up a Troyella. There are scores of them on this site.

If you can, please leave a review and let me know what you think**. **

**Disclaimer: All characters and songs pertaining to the **_High School Musical _**Universe are © of Disney. Until I attain the rights to these characters (in my dreams), I do not intend to make a profit off of this work, or any other. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

That summer, I didn't see much of my right hand man. Taylor preoccupied most of his time. She was headed off to Yale, after all, so I perfectly understood. Despite his certainty about it when he encouraged me to move on from Gabriella, Chad wasn't quite ready to let Taylor go.

With Zeke and Jason also hanging around each other in the aftermath of Zeke and Sharpay's inevitable break-up, that left just me and Ryan. It was Ryan and me, taking advantage of the time we had together, before he set off for Juilliard in the fall.

Yes, Ryan and Kelsi were the recipients of the Juilliard scholarship. The scouts loved Ryan's choreography in the spring musical so much, they gave out an extra scholarship, just for him. Even though the prospect of losing both of my Drama Club friends completely terrified me, I put my best face forward, like I had with Gabriella, and congratulated the both of them.

I had twirled Ryan around and hugged him during the musical. As we sat together on his massive bed, I was so proud and happy for him, I couldn't refrain from hugging him tightly again. "You deserve it, you know," I told him.

"Sharpay and I have always dreamed of going there," He stared into space, his eyes misty, "But New York is so far away. From Shar, my parents…" He broke off, fidgeting uncomfortably. There was something else.

"Yeah?" I prompted gently, my heart in my throat.

I watched his creamy throat as he swallowed, blush creeping over his fair, porcelain skin. "Juilliard is so far away from _you_."

His words hung in the air and, from the emphasis on that one word, I realized something that should have been obvious to me. "Oh, Ryan," I murmured. I wanted to punch myself in the gut, slam my head into a wall. Any pain I dealt myself, however, would never equal what I had unknowingly done to him.

"Troy, it's fine," he began assuring me.

"No, it's _not_."

"It's not your fault. I shouldn't have said anything." He was hurting and vulnerable in his own bedroom, all because of _me_. All of the times I had paraded my relationship with Gabriella around the school, around Lava Springs, he still stood by me, he still supported me. He was never anything but an amazing friend to me. Knowing that, how badly I had hurt him, how much pain I caused him, hurt me more than losing Gabriella ever had.

"You didn't do anything do anything wrong," I told him.

He looked at his bedroom floor, his skinny body still, but I had a feeling that, inside, he was quaking.

"Ryan." I drew him into me, and was immensely relieved that he didn't struggle, or oppose my touching him. With his body so close to mine, our hearts practically beating against one another, something inside of me began to completely unravel. It wasn't until my eyes closed, that I noticed the moisture clinging to my eyelashes.

-Two Worlds-

I took Gabriella out for dinner four times over the next month. Even though the former Montez house was being browsed by potential buyers, Gabriella's mom had made arrangements with a friend at her work to allow Gabriella to be able to meet with me in person. I was really grateful for this.

Other nights, Gabriella and I would watch a movie together over webcam, talk on the phone, or, when she was in town, hang out in my tree house. Every kiss was initiated by her, like always. But, something in me had changed. For some reason, even though I wanted to feel her mouth on mine, I froze up every time our faces were close enough for me to feel her breath on my cheek, or on my neck.

I knew eventually she'd ask why. How could I tell her that her dark spiral waves of hair, smooth skin, and liquid brown eyes, were now unexpectedly unable to hold a candle to Ryan's golden blond hair that he hid under countless designer fedoras, his curvy hips, and his incredibly alluring sky blue eyes? And, that kissing her while knowing that one of my best friends was _in love with me_ felt _wrong_?

I never left Ryan out, either. I always called him, refusing to give him a chance to say no because he thought he was, "tainting", me. We went to the mall to shop for our dorms and enhance my wardrobe. Ryan's quite the style consultant, you know. We watched movies in his family's home theater and playfully argued the logistics of _Iron Man 2_, Ryan offering his own hilarious commentary. During our _X-Men_ round of all nighters, this time in the den, seated on a couch that was piled with expensive lumpy cushions, I noticed him yawning behind his hand while _X-3_ reached its end. His eyelids fell several times through the first twenty minutes of _X-Men Origins: Wolverine_. When Kayla, Logan's girlfriend, "died", I realized that Ryan had nodded off on my shoulder.

The sight of him sound asleep, and the feeling of his light weight and his bodily warmth, reduced my heart to ooze. Warm sticky, thick, ooze. I felt a smile tug up the ends of my mouth. Carefully, so I wouldn't disturb him, I removed his hat and eased both of us back on the sofa, so that his head was resting on my chest.

When I told Chad about waking up to discover Ryan and I had maintained these positions throughout the night, he used my words to craft what would be his joke for the next several weeks: "You and Evans slept together."

While I took the teasing in stride, like always, I'm not sure that Gabriella would have found the situation funny at all.

-Unfaithful-

Gabriella's early enrollment at Stanford kept tugging her away. We both recognized it, and, while sometimes, she spoke cryptically about, "goodbyes", and not being ready to grow up, at other times, she started getting clingy, asking me to talk to her until she fell asleep. If I happened to be tired out from shooting hoops with my dad out back, or helping my mom with the groceries, or hanging with Ryan, and fell asleep first, Gabriella would get very upset with me the next day.

At first, it was just mildly annoying, but then it began to escalate to the point where I couldn't stand it anymore, so I calmly asked her to, "please knock it off, okay?". Just like I expected, she didn't take that well.

I figured that I needed even a day long break away from her before I let my irritation get the best of me, and completely screwed up our relationship. _Again_. It was always _me_ screwing things up for us.

As July rolled around, bringing with it a massive heat wave, Ryan and I frequently took dips in the fantastic pool at his mansion home. It took a lot of coaxing, and even more sunscreen, SPF 100, to get Ryan out of his shirt, but _damn _did it pay off. Modesty is important, yeah, but I'm not exactly embarrassed to say that I got my first hard on for another boy as I watched water droplets making their way down Ryan's body, trailing down into the waistband of his curve-hugging swim trunks.

I had never seen him shirtless before, at least, not like _this_. The only time I had seen Ryan shirtless prior to us swimming together, was when my eyes wandered while we were sharing a dressing room during the rehearsals for the East High winter musical. His body was nice, and his skin looked soft, but I never would thought about calling him_ hot_.

Right then, however, I wanted to lick every single drop of pool water right off of his sun-warmed, creamy skin.

I felt his eyes glued to my pectorals, my abdomen, the prominent bulge at the front of my trunks. It was one of those cosmic moments where we noticed each other _noticing_ each other. Cliche as it is to say, I felt like I was seeing _him _for the first time, and I really, _really _liked what I saw.

-Listen To Your Heart-

A week later, Gabriella asked to join us. This posed a bit of a problem for both me and Ryan, but I agreed to it at Ryan's request. I think he might have been aware that I didn't want to have to answer to Gabriella's looks of betrayal, her pained sighs, or my own guilty conscience.

Gabriella and I floated and swam around the pool; if she playfully splashed me, I'd splash her back, but my enthusiasm was lacking. Ryan rotated between chatting with us, reading a book titled _Homunculus_, and staring listlessly into space. He wouldn't join us unless someone invited him. That was unfair. It was _his _house, and _his _pool. I wanted to invite him in, I _should _have, but I was afraid of how Gabriella would have reacted.

Around three that afternoon, Ryan asked if either of us were hungry. Gabriella looked at me expectantly, so I replied, "Yeah." I've learned that some girls will almost never admit that they're hungry, because they've been convinced that such a thing is, "unladylike". Personally, when I'm hungry, I eat, and I think that's how everyone should look at it.

Ryan offered to get the food, and I prepared to climb out and help him. It was bad enough that he had to sit there and watch other people splash around in his pool. He shouldn't have had to get food for us all by himself.

"No, Troy, it's all right," he said hastily.

"It's fine, Ryan. I insist."

Gabriella's mouth opened, then shut, as if she wanted to protest, but thought better of it. I asked her what she'd like and she murmured, "Never mind. I'm not really hungry anymore," then turned away from me, folding her arms. I was upset that she reacted in such a way. I was only helping a friend.

At least, that's what I told myself I was doing.

I followed Ryan, my wet feet slapping against the walkway. The wet smacks were timed with the padded clacking of his flip flops. We entered his pantry, and Ryan remarked, "She's jealous."

My heart missed a beat. He put to words what I couldn't even begin to think about. I swallowed, feeling like my face was burning, all of the sudden. I leaned into him and inquired in a low voice, "D-Does she have a reason to be?"

He looked at me, his eyes glowing with a feeling that had been absent from Gabriella's gaze for the last two weeks, maybe even longer than that. "I don't know," he answered. His arm twitched and I imagined his hands on me. His cool, slender, hands massaging my chest, sliding down… down... Ryan swallowed before speaking again, his light voice low, almost husky. "Does she?"

My hand reached out as if it had a mind of its own, and I dragged a knuckle down his cheek. His breath hitched as he released a sigh. _Fuck_, I thought, my heart hammering. Yes_. Yes, she does. _

And, then we remembered where we were, who was just outside, and what we were supposed to be doing. Quickly, we broke apart. I helped myself to the peanut butter and jelly. Ryan grabbed the wheat and white bread, an apple, and a banana. I fixed myself and Gabriella peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which are about the full extent of my culinary skills. Ryan made himself a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

"Is that good?" I asked.

"Mm. Try some." He severed the sandwich with a neat, swift cut, and offered me a half.

Without a second thought, I bit off of it, eating right out of his slender hand. The combination of peanut butter and the soft, sweet creamy fruit was more than just "good". It was _awesome_. Ryan's taste was impeccable.

-New Divide-

After the 4th of July, the duration of my phone calls with Gabriella began receding. From three hours to two and a half. From two and a half to an hour. An hour to forty-five minutes. We were running out of things to talk about, to say to each other. She always sounded preoccupied, and there would be periods of extended silence before one of us would come up with some half-assed excuse to get off the phone. Sometimes, I'd hear the voice of another guy in the background, and Gabriella would giggle before telling me that she had some studying to do.

It also didn't help that my mind kept wandering to Ryan while I was on the phone with her. The distance between us, the former "Primo Couple" of East High, just kept widening. And, there was nothing that I could do to stop it.

A voice at the back of my mind wondered if I really _wanted _to stop it.

Chad informed me that Gabriella was telling Taylor that I was, "making her feel neglected". He wanted to know if I was falling for Ryan, and a huge part of me immediately gave that an affirmative. I wasn't "falling", for Ryan, however.

No. I knew that I had already fallen for him. The feelings were just getting more intense.

-Potential Break-Up-

The steady decline of my relationship with Gabriella finally plunged into rock bottom. She went away to Stanford for a week to catch up on her studies. Before leaving, she spent an entire afternoon with me. A very awkward and uncomfortable afternoon that_ shouldn't_ have been awkward and uncomfortable. Her hand rested on my thigh, and she kept giving me these looks that made me feel lower than the floor.

Or maybe, that was how she always looked at me, and I was just starting to notice how it made me feel.

"You're still going to Berkeley in the fall, right?" she asked, gazing intently at my face.

"Yeah." I paused, swallowing. "That's the plan, right?"

Her lips curled up into something that wasn't really a smile. "I wish it was fall, already."

I found myself forcing a smile on my face. "Me, too." Honestly, I didn't know if that was the truth, anymore.

She pressed her lips to my neck, and I had to fight with myself not to flinch away. When her mom showed up to pick her up, I wasn't sure what to feel.

I walked her to the door and she blew me a kiss goodbye, fluttering her eyelashes. That strange, off-smile never left her face.

The next day, she sent me a text that read, "I love you, Wildcat. But, I think we need some time apart." I may have played sports for most of my life, but I'm not a neanderthal. When a girl tells you that you, "need some time apart", it means she's considering breaking up with you.

I texted her back, asking her if that was the case.

Five minutes later, I received her response:

_Idk, Troy. I'll talk to you later. Bye. _:(

I was so frustrated and pissed, I threw my phone onto the bed and ran my hands through my hair. I knew I had been tempted, but damn it, I hadn't _done _a damn thing with Ryan that would have been considered an act of infidelity. And _this_, right after her visit the day before, too? _Fuck me. _I lashed out at the wall, and probably would have cried out in frustration if I wasn't so sure that my mom or dad would hear, and come rushing in to find out why their perfect son was so perfectly_ fucking up_. Like always.

The urge to scream was detracted as my ringtone for Ryan, "I Want To Hold Your Hand", by the Beatles, sounded off. Quickly, I retrieved my phone and, composing myself, spoke into the receiver. "Ry?"

"Troy, hey!" His light voice was like a splash of cool water on the sting left by Gabriella's abandonment.

"Hey," I returned, trying to keep my voice steady.

I didn't fool at him at all.

"Gabriella, huh?" He inquired.

"Yeah," I replied, bitterness overwhelming my voice.

He didn't ask if I wanted to talk about it, like my mom or dad would have. He just knew that I'd rather not. Instead, he invited me over to his house to help him practice his audition for a community theater production. And, to get my mind off of my relationship troubles.

I couldn't refuse him.

-Chemicals React-

I got to his house and he lead me to the rec room, where a stereo was already set up. He told he had to run through his routine, and I could feel free to jump in whenever I felt like it. The music started, and he began to sing, his body swaying in time to the beat. He pulled off these almost snake-like movements so effortlessly, I was spellbound.

_You make me feel_

_ Out of my element_

_ Like I'm walkin' on_

_ Broken glass_

_ Like my world's spinnin' _

_ In slow motion_

_ And you're movin' too_

_ Fast_

His voice, for lack of better terminology, was a vocal orgasm in its purest form. Smooth, velvety, light, impassioned. In the two years I had known Gabriella, she never put such sincerity into her singing. Every joint in Ryan's body seemed to be driven and powered by it. Performing was his natural forte for a reason, after all.

_Were you right? _

_ Was I wrong?_

_ Were you weak?_

_ Was I strong?_

_ Yeah, both of us _

_ Broken_

_ Caught in _

_ The moment_

_ We lived and_

_ We loved and_

_ We hurt and _

_ We jumped_

_ Yeah_

He slid in close to me. Placing his fingers under my chin, he leniently tilted it up and gazed into my eyes, blue into blue. His eyes held the world at their cores.

_But the planets_

_ All aligned,_

_ When you looked_

_ Into my eyes_

_ And just like _

_ That,_

_ The chemicals _

_ React_

_ The chemicals_

_ React_

I soon joined in, singing along. The words just came to me, as if they had been stored away inside me, and I was extracting them again. For some reason, singing this song with Ryan, _to him_, felt more _right _than anything had in the last month or so. I was venting, getting all of these feelings that I had for him off of my chest.

Hesitantly, I took hold of his hand, and, pressing our palms together, interlocked our fingers, never detaching my gaze from his.

_You make me feel_

_ Out of my element_

_ Like I'm drifting _

_ Out to the sea_

_ Like the tide's _

_ Pullin' me in deeper,_

_ Makin' it harder_

_ To breathe_

_ We cannot deny_

_ How we feel inside_, he sang. The expanse of his eyes encompassed the world, and as I gazed into the surface of his shining sky blue orbs, recognizing the reflection in them, I realized it was me. All me.

_We cannot deny! _I sang with him, letting our voices intertwine, fuse to create a blend more pure than any we had experienced and experimented with during our years at East High.

_Were you right?_

_ Was I wrong? _Ryan asked, sliding in close, only to slip just out of my reach.

_Were you weak?_

_ Was I strong? _I countered, each verse flowing out of me as naturally as breaths.

_Yeah! _We exclaimed, rejoining our voices. Harmonizing.

_Both of us broken_

_ Caught in the moment_

_ We lived and_

_ We loved and _

_ We hurt and _

_ We jumped_

_ Yeah, _Ryan ducked, twirling himself under my arms.

_But the planets_

_ All aligned,_

_ When you looked_

_ Into my eyes_

_ And just like that, _I did a half twirl and followed, reaching for him as if my life was dependent on my catching him and holding him close. Because, maybe it was.

_The chemicals react_

_ The chemicals react_

_ Kaleidoscope of colors_, he began, letting the intensity build as the beat of the accompaniment drove us to the song's climax.

_Turnin' hopes on fire_

_ Sun is burnin'_

I reached him and took his hands. Looking unguardedly into his eyes, I tried to convey all of the things I felt. How much I was needing him. We sang together again.

_Shinin' down on_

_ Both of us_

The inner wall he had fortified to keep himself secure fell away brick by brick.

_Don't let us lose it, _Ryan vocalized softly.

"Don't let us lose it…" I whispered. I thought back to my kiss with Gabriella on Prom Night, and how happy I had been to feel her lips against mine. Then, I thought of every kiss after that; how awkward, and how _wrong_ they had felt. I considered all of the times I had wondered what Ryan's lips tasted like. I envisioned my lips brushing against his, feeling how soft they were.

I pictured Gabriella, her shining curls falling into her face, her olive fingers stroking though the dark hair of some other lucky guy, her shimmering lips and petite form pressing against his strong, muscular body. His hands stroking her smooth cheeks.

_I love you, Wildcat. _

But, she wasn't here _with me_, and I wasn't there with her. She couldn't even get on a plane to go to the prom with me. No, the person in front of me was _Ryan_. Sweet, caring Ryan who was always there when I needed him, even if he had other things to do. Beautiful,_ incredibly attractive_ Ryan, whose succulent lips were parted, his eyes aglow. In those eyes, I saw myself moving closer, closer. Hesitation left me. I couldn't deny him- or _myself_, what we desired anymore.

I captured his lips with my own, my heart swelling, my pulse throbbing in my ears. When I closed my eyes, the image on the inside of my eyelids was Ryan, and then an explosion of fireworks. My arms wrapped around him, and that was all of the coaxing that he needed to fling his arms around my neck. His sweet scent of lavender, with a hint of something more masculine, drifted into my nostrils, and I finally knew that his mouth tasted of mint, strawberries and everything wonderful.

**A/N: **Please, if it isn't too much trouble, leave a review, and let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Let it be known, because I failed to mention it before, that the song used in the previous chapter, "Chemicals React", is © of former Disney pop sensations, Alyson and Amanda Joy Michalka, or as they are more often referred to, Aly and AJ. The intensity of the slashy content **will continue to escalate from here on out, so be warned. I will not tolerate flames directed toward homosexuality.** If you can't stand the heat, then vacate the Rainbow Kingdom at once!

Now, for the moment you've all been waiting for.

Chapter 3

Gabriella had left me behind three times. I wasn't going to be her puppy anymore. I knew, without her saying anything, that she had cheated on me. And, I had cheated on her._ If _we were even still together, that is. There was no explosive confrontation. We didn't fling any venomous words at each other. I called her up soon after my kiss with Ryan. The dissolving of the relationship between East High's former Primo boy and his perfect girlfriend went something like this:

Gabriella: So…

Me: I kissed Ryan.

Gabriella: (with the slightest hint of anger-and maybe hurt?-to her voice) Really?

Me: Yeah.

Gabriella: …Oh.

Me: (with surprising confidence) He's_ incredible_! Witty, funny, amazingly talented-! I can't believe it took me so long to notice.

Gabriella: Troy, I met someone else.

Me: (flatly) Did you.

Gabriella: Yes, I did.

Me: Well... (swallows hard, tries to be happy for her) Whoever he is, he's a lucky guy.

Gabriella: Yeah. Actually, he's a better kisser than you. (sighs) Troy, I let my heart believe that we were _forever_… that we would give ourselves to each other and maybe get married… like a fairytale. Like back in Kindergarten.

Me: …Gabriella, we aren't in Kindergarten anymore.

Gabriella: (harshly) Then, I guess people _do_ change, huh?

Me: They do. They grow up. (sighs) Goodbye, Gabriella.

Gabriella: I never thought _you'd_ be the one to tell _me_ goodbye.(is silent for several seconds, then abruptly hangs up)

And, that was the end of it. Once again, I received no farewell from her. Not that I was expecting one. I had learned to know better. Gabriella was my inspiration through our last two years of high school. I tried to be there for her whenever she needed me. I did everything in my power to be what she wanted me to be. But, in the end, I wasn't good enough. Where was she when _I_ needed her? Blaming me for everything, and complaining to me about circumstances that I couldn't change. It wasn't my fault that, before her junior year, she had never spent an entire summer in one place her whole life. I wasn't wrong for caring about my own future. It wasn't my fault that she wasn't ready to, in her words, be a, "little adult". ...Right?

Nevertheless, there was one person who continually put his own feelings on the back-burner to be there for me, and damn it, I was going to be there for _him_, no matter what.

-I Want To Hold Your Hand-

I knocked on the front door of the Evans mansion. The door came open to reveal Ryan standing there, wearing a perplexed expression.

"I broke up with Gabriella," I blurted.

His brow elevated and I had to stop myself from kissing it. "You broke things off with her?" He inquired.

"Yes," I answered eagerly, a maniacal grin spreading across my face.

He stared at me for a moment longer, his mouth giving that little quirk. "I'm not your rebound," he said calmly.

"Of course not," I replied, even though he already knew the answer. I could _never _use someone like that.

"I'm the catalyst," he murmured, his gaze and tone darkening in a way that would have been unnoticeable to someone who wasn't looking for it.

I gently placed a hand on either side of his porcelain face. "No. No, no, _no._ Ryan, you are _not _ a home wrecker," I told him softly but firmly.

He looked into my eyes, his own eyes sparkling. He was unable to argue. I leaned in, pressing my nose against his. To my immense relief, he didn't pull away. We stayed like that for a few moments before he mused quietly. "I can't wait to see Shar's reaction to this."

For some odd reason, I let out a laugh at that. Maybe the vicious roller coaster of mood swings I had gone through the past couple of days had finally gotten to me. Whatever the cause of my strange response, Ryan was unbothered. He just glanced at me and gave me a half-smile. I decided the mixture of guilt and shock on his face was unfitting of him. He needed something brighter. Earnestly, I pressed my lips to his. My heart sang for the first time since graduation when he, at first hesitantly, then, with increasingly less fear and restraint, kissed me back.

-True Friend-

Chad called me a few times, wondering how I was coping with the break-up. Gabriella had, of course, phoned Taylor and gave her side of the story, conveniently leaving out the part where she did who knows what with someone else. Chad had been there, witnessing my slipping into a state of melancholy during Gabriella's gaping absence at the end of the school year. He was the one who had advised me to let Gabriella go, and to move on. Which I didn't listen to when I should have. That was _my_ stupidity. Being the good friend he is, he wanted to make sure that I didn't hang myself, or something.

I assured him that I was fine.

That assurance was all the proof he needed to arrive at his next conclusion. "Dude," he paused to laugh incredulously, "you're totally boning Evans now, aren't you?"

At this, I let out a laugh of my own. "No. Not yet."

-All In-

Ryan and I waded around the pool, our movement creating ripples and splashes against the walls.

"It's like a dream," Ryan said, pulling himself up to sit on the ledge. I assisted him when he began to struggle, easily lifting him up. Ryan's always been very light. He confided in me once that in the middle of the eighth grade, his weight plummeted so fast, dropping from a fit and healthy 120 pounds to 95, his parents took him to a specialist who diagnosed him with anorexia. His weight fluctuated between 110 and 120 almost regularly. Usually when he reached the heavier end, he'd hardly eat, and spend all of his time dancing to burn off what he considered "excess body mass."

When he got like that, I brought him little snacks and treats that he wouldn't refuse, because that sort of weight loss and gain is totally unhealthy, you know.

I lofted myself up to join him on the ledge. We let our legs hang over the edge, feet trailing in the water. It reminded me of that scene in the movie _Dare_, where the sexually confused boy, Ben, and the loner boy, Johnny, were talking in Johnny's pool room. They waded around in the pool, Ben entranced Johnny with his, "needy eyes", they kissed, and Ben ended up giving Johnny oral.

Our situation was similar, but this was Ryan, who has been openly gay since the sixth grade, and who's been in love with me for at least two years, and _me_. I didn't care what my sexual identity was, I just knew that I _wanted him_. To be there for him, to hold him at night, and bring him chocolate and flowers, and kiss his tears away after I punched or chewed out the person who made him cry in the first place. And, yeah, pool sex is hot, but there's a proper time and place.

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

"It's just that, everyone was convinced you and Gabriella were, 'meant to be'. That the two of you would last forever." He looked to me, his eyes searching my face.

"A while ago, Gabriella and I were sure of that, ourselves. At least, I thought I was. But, sometimes your eyes open, and you realize that the person standing next to you isn't the right one for you."

"She hurt you," he said simply, his inflection stricken, bitter, angry.

I gave a very small nod.

Ryan reached out to me timidly, his fingers curled as if he meant to caress my cheek, only to pull back. "But, why _me_?" He asked, whispering softly. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

I looked into his starlit eyes. My gaze wandered over his creamy luminous skin, and his carefully shaped, thin, but shapely body. I took in his lips that knew whether to kiss my flesh softly, or press against my lips, parting to slip me tongue. His mouth that always seemed to say nothing but exactly the right words. I recalled the sensation of his slender fingers tangling through my hair, or stroking my skin soothingly… those fingers tracing my pectorals and my nipples through my shirt. The way everything felt so_ natural_. The way the world seemed less turbulent, and life was no longer quite as stressful, as long as he was with me.

"Why not?" More confident than him, and intending to convey my honesty, I slid my finger under his chin, and tilted it up, so his eyes were level with mine.

"You're too perfect." He melted under my touch and the look in my eyes, letting himself surrender.

"I'm _not_ perfect, Ry," I told him. I'm _not_, although being with him made me feel damn near close. "But, I'll try my _best_ to be the kind of guy who deserves you." If he was going to make himself vulnerable, I would be his safeguard to ensure that his heart was never broken. If I ever became the kind of cruel bastard who could intentionally do that to someone like him, I'd be better off dead.

"You… you're… just…" That was all that he said before his hand was tangled in my mop of damp, shaggy hair, and his lips were on mine.

My tongue went through his parted lips to brush against his tongue, and the two muscles joined together. A feeling welled inside of me, filling me completely. It was warm, giddy, safe. I hoped that I made my beautiful blond friend… boyfriend?… feel the same.

-Your Love Is My Drug-

Ryan's audition was an immense success. As always, his performance left his audience starstruck. I was so proud of him when he told me he'd landed a lead role, I gathered him into my arms, and kissed him full and hard on the lips. Before congratulating him further by taking him out for hot fudge sundaes, I teased him rather awkwardly, "You better not cheat on me with some pretty girl."

He gave me an odd look, his brow arched furtively, before emitting a giggle. "Trust me. You don't have to worry about that. I'd never audition for a role in a show that requires me to kiss a girl. Why do you think Shar and I always auditioned to play romantic leads opposite one another? No one in their right mind would force twin siblings into a lip lock."

I knew the reasoning for the Evans twins auditioning for each other's love interests in the school plays was something along those lines, despite the vicious, disturbing rumors going around the school suggesting that there was something more going on behind closed doors. Everyone thought of Ryan as Sharpay's, "poodle", until the summer that he broke free of her reins. I couldn't imagine Ryan being a fan of kinky incest. Although, Sharpay being attracted to him would be strangely understandable. He's beyond hot, especially in jeans that cling to his luscious, round ass.

-Without Love-

After Ryan and I had been dating for two weeks, we received a phone call during a make-out session. My hands were down his pants, squeezing his butt, and our boners were grinding together. It was my happy place, like heaven on earth- that is, until we were yanked away from it by the sound of Lady Gaga's "Telephone". Pulling his tongue from my mouth, Ryan muttered an agitated, "Fuck," and reached for his phone.

It could only have been one person.

He opened the phone and inquired, "Hello?", his tone betraying frustration.

His cheeks were pink, his lips had been kissed red, and his eyes were glazed over by interrupted lust. Fuck, he was like an angel on earth.

Sharpay's voice answered his query. She had been at their family's country club, Lava Springs, all summer. She wanted to, "relax and renew", before continuing to pursue the Evans twins's shared dream of stardom, and perpetuating her rivalry with a British sophomore who nearly stole the show from her during the spring musical, last year.

Ryan gave affirmation before adding, "We're sort of busy at the moment."

My heart missed a beat, and I realized with my brain exclaiming, "_Oh shit!_", that Sharpay wanted to talk to me.

Ryan looked to me, his gaze understanding. I could tell that he was already forming an excuse for me mentally. That was something he did _not _have to do. I moved forward, extending my hand for the phone. I gave him an affectionate smile, encouraging him. He handed it over. I held the phone to my ear with my right hand and massaged his neck with my left, easing the tension on his muscles.

"Hey, Sharpay," I greeted the blonde girl.

"Troooooy!" She cooed, her voice potent. "I'm so glad that my brother finally has a love mate."

"I'm so glad that I have him," I told her, working my way down to Ryan's shoulders. "Easy," I murmured soothingly against his earlobe. Anxiety was rolling off of him, but I wasn't afraid. Not really. He didn't need to be, either.

"Ryan told me about your break-up with Gabriella. Who knew little Ms. Science Nerd had it in her to commit infidelity?"

I ignored the slight hint of gleefulness in her voice. The little nickname was rather mean, but it wasn't enough to keep my heart from dropping. I barely held in a bitter chuckle.

Sharpay continued to converse with herself for a bit. I mean, her words seemed toe directed at me, but she never paused long enough to give me room to reply. Finally she declared, with what I'm sure was a coy smirk on the other end, "I should have _known_ that you were gay, Troy. You used, "I love your shoes", as a distraction. Only a gay guy would say something like that."

I felt myself blush.

"You did?" Ryan turned to me, to mouth, his expression a mixture of awe and amusement.

I nodded to answer him.

"And," Sharpay went on, "only a man with a preference for the same sex would be able to resist_ my_ beauty and charms."

Pursing my lips, my brows furrowing, I mused that she might have had a point, there. All of the other guys at school, aside from Ryan and me, stopped to stare when Sharpay so much as walked down the hallway at East High.

I waited for her to finish gushing about herself, then spoke into the receiver. "You don't have to worry, Sharpay. Ryan is more than an experiment. I want to look after him, hold him safely through the night, and make sure that no one, including _me_, _ever _hurts him." There were other, more physical aspects that Ryan and I both wanted to explore, but some things are best left unsaid, especially in front of your boyfriend's sister.

"Take it easy there, mighty warrior of the pen. Your words are crippling me with their sentimentality," Ryan teased me gently, laughing slightly as he nuzzled into the crook of my neck.

"My apologies, dear prince, but I mean every word." Smiling, I absent-mindedly fingered one of the red hickeys I had left on his neck.

"Oh, how sweet," Sharpay said sarcastically.

Ryan rolled his eyes, obviously having heard her. I stifled a laugh.

"Troy," the blonde girl went on, "you just better hold true to everything you said. If you don't, and you hurt Ryan, I'll have you neutered. You got that?"

Despite the eye-widening threat to my genitals, it warmed my heart to hear Sharpay defending her brother. "Yes," I replied. I'd rather castrate myself, than hurt Ryan a second time, and risk losing him.

She asked that I return the phone to Ryan, and I did. The two of them traded, "I love you"s, and Ryan lightly chided his sister for being overprotective. She told him something, and he turned away, trying to hide the blush filling his cheeks. "I know!" he exclaimed. "Y-You don't need to remind me!"

Sharpay chirped something delightedly, then the call ended.

Ryan closed his phone and turned back to me, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I assumed Sharpay's embarrassing comment had something to do with sex. "Come here," I opened up my arms, inviting him into an embrace.

He snuggled in. "Don't get me wrong. I love my sister, but she can be a migraine concentrated sometimes."

"It's only because she cares," I comforted him with a smile, rubbing down his back. After witnessing Sharpay bawling, her mascara running down her face, the previous summer, I came to realize that she wasn't such a terrible person. She's just spoiled and demanding. When she awarded Ryan the Star Dazzle Talent Show trophy, that summer, showing that there was a selfless part of her buried somewhere deep within, my heart had leapt out of sheer delight.

"I know," Ryan admitted, smiling softly.

"Besides, I think I have the perfect cure for that "migraine"." I grinned, watching with satisfaction as Ryan got the message. He moved into me, his lean chest pressing against mine. I know it's weird, but to me, it felt so much better than a pair of breasts being squished against my chest. I mean, I'm sure that's uncomfortable for both the guy and the girl.

Come to think of it, maybe that's why I always hugged Gabriella from behind.

I slipped my hands back down into Ryan's pants.

He groaned lightly.

That was my cue to hug him close to me, transporting myself, transporting both of us, to our happy place, once again. I could put thoughts of the dreaded and inevitable, "Talk", out of mind. It was only a matter of time before my mom or dad spotted one of the lovely hickeys Ryan decorated my neck with. But, for a brief moment, that was of no importance.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: If the warnings in previous chapters were not incentive to turn back if the thought of two boys playing a "Lovegame" makes you want to tear off someone's disco stick, this chapter utilizes the "M" rating. **If you wish to flame me, find a valid reason aside from the sexuality of the characters with which to justify your claim.

I own absolutely nothing recognizable. Now, forward, march!

Chapter 4

While I was listening to Nickelback's ,"Saving Me", on the I-pod my parents bought me as graduation present, my dad tapped on the shoulder. I caught the look on his face, and- _Fuck. _Removing the earbuds from my ears, I turned to face him.

"So, you broke up with Gabriella?" He asked. I hadn't so much as mentioned her in over a week, so I figured he'd catch on sooner or later.

"It was sort of a mutual thing. We just grew apart," I replied.

Dad nodded. "That happens sometimes. You grow up, find out that your interests lie elsewhere… But, you've been pretty happy, lately, bud. And, your mom noticed that your shirts smell like a mixture of perfume and cologne."

Anyone could tell where the conversation was going. Of course, with parents like mine, it was about to swerve off into The Land of Humiliating Your Only Son. My eyes began widening.

"Your mom and I made a bet," my dad went on, "to figure out whether you were hooking up with a guy or a girl. So tell me." He took the chair from the desk and turned it backwards, before plopping down on it, facing me. "Which is it?"

I was so stunned by the fact that my parents were making _bets _on my sexuality, I could only stare and gape, "Ryan…"

"'Ryan', huh?" From the look on his face, I could tell that my dad was thinking back to the roster of kids on his team and in his P.E. class, probably trying to match a face with that name. I'll bet he never thought his son, the basketball team captain, would wind up with the boy who ruled the drama club, and then later performed backflips in the stuffy, heavy as hell school mascot costume. (Ryan told me he went to such trouble, even though he insisted that it wasn't any trouble, out of loyalty to me.) When it came to him, my dad muttered, probably hoping that I wouldn't hear him, "Damn. I guess I owe her fifteen dollars."

I wished I was somewhere else, and not hearing that.

He looked back to me. "Well Troy, Ryan seems like a nice enough kid, and I have every faith you'll be good to him. I don't really know that much about, "getting it on", with another guy, but I am aware of the "mechanics"."

My face burned with mortification. That was _horrific_.

"Anyway, I've got something for you." My dad produced a tube of lubrication and a box of condoms. My eyes widened. I know it makes me sound like a big baby, but I kind of wanted to pull the covers over my head and disappear. As he handed the, "gifts", over to me, he reminded me to, "be gentle", and to, "not get too carried away". "Unless of course, you're the one, "catching", or…"

Finally recovering my voice, I blurted out, "_Dad! _…W-We're not, 'going to home plate', or anything _today_!"

"I'm kidding!" He assured me, an amused grin on his face. His tone grew serious. "But, Troy, it _is_ the summer before you go away to college. You're almost a man, now, and that means that you'll know when you're ready." He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. "Your first time is a milestone, Troy. It's one big step on the road to manhood. You never forget it. I just wanna be sure it's something you'll want to remember."

When my dad said that, it was obvious how much he cared about me. He just wanted me to be happy, and I wasn't going to disappoint him. As long as it was with the right person, I'd take that memory with me, holding onto it for the rest of my life. I stowed the tube of lube and the incriminatory box away, and thanked him.

He ruffled my hair and informed me, without breaking stride, that my face was about as red as my old jersey.

-How You Remind Me-

I walked Ryan to my beaten up old truck. When his rehearsals went on into the night, I elected myself his chauffeur, and, if needed, bodyguard. I refused to leave him to fend for himself against some rapist or drug fiend. One particular night, a big, scruffy looking guy, who gave off a very powerful odor of weed, approached us. I reminded myself not to jump to conclusions.

"Hey, pretty thing." The guy moved into Ryan, his eyes fixating on Ryan's fair face. "Lookin' for a good time?"

Ryan stiffened. He casted a side-long glance at me. I knew that he was frightened, and incredibly uncomfortable, but he put on a brave face, anyway. His blue eyes narrowed. "No thank you," he stated, his tone firm and unflinching.

I stood at his side, my hackles rising a bit. I waited for the guy to continue walking, telling myself that if the man laid a hand on Ryan, I'd dash right in there.

The guy broke my thoughts, speaking once again in a ragged voice that was probably his attempt to sound sexy. Instead, he sounded like he abused drugs and, "pretty", people for a living. "You sure I can't change your mind?" He angled into Ryan, his hands peeling open his own tattered jacket.

"I'm _not _interested, _thank you_," Ryan reiterated, his voice more tart and fierce than the first time.

_He said no_ twice_, _I told myself, _if this guy doesn't take the hint and back the _fuck _off- _I caught a glimpse of silver from the interior of the man's jacket, the vague outline of a hunting knife, and, before I could rationalize it, I launched myself at the guy, tackling him to the ground.

It was a rash and thoughtless move. I was an unarmed high school graduate, clocking in at about 145 lbs.

This guy could have had a loaded gun stashed in his pockets. The only thing that mattered at the time, though, was that I interpreted a veiled threat against Ryan, and hell would freeze over before I would allow it to come to fruition.

I wrestled with the scumbag, both of us rolling over the cracked pavement. Something grazed my eye, but I ignored it, concentrating on making this bastard think twice about fucking with anyone. I was _enraged _at the thought of what could have happened to Ryan, what could have happened to _anyone_ else who encountered this man who didn't know how to take ,"no", for answer. Fury coursed through my veins. I punched the guy in the face, and was vaguely aware of Ryan hauling me off of the man, and to my feet. Ryan tugged on my hand, and the two of us made a break for it.

We climbed into my ancient truck. I jammed the key into the ignition. The engine spluttered to life.

"Drive!" Ryan exclaimed.

I did.

-Use Somebody-

Ryan entered the security code at the back door to let us into the sealed up Evans mansion. Once we were inside, the door locked and the security system armed and at the ready, he let out an exhalation, then turned to me. "I want to thank you for protecting me back there. But…" he sighed. "Damn it, Troy, what you did back there was _reckless_!" His voice rose in pitch, the light alto-tenor cracking slightly. "I understand that you want to be a hero. Everyone always thinks of you as one, so you feel you have to validate their beliefs somehow. I understand that. But, is getting yourself _killed _to prove how good you are, worth it?!" Panic and anxiety clouded his sky blue eyes. "You _are _a good person," he said in a low voice. He fidgeted awkwardly before moving in and brushing aside locks of my hair from where they had fallen out of place on my left brow. He inspected the wound I forgot I had. It obviously wasn't too bad, but I could still feel him trembling inside.

Ryan lead me to the bathroom and wordlessly pulled out a bottle of peroxide and a Q-tip. As he cleaned my minor nick, I finally spoke up. "_You're_ worth it."

His brow crinkled. "I'm _not _worth you getting killed by some depraved homeless man."He swabbed the damp Q-tip across my brow. The peroxide stung a little, but like my mom always said, that's how you know it's properly disinfecting the cut.

I wasn't going to argue with him. He'd already been through enough for the evening. We both had. "I'm sorry," I murmured.

Instantly, his eyes, posture, and voice seemed to soften, relax, as if those words had the power to make him let go of all of the negative feelings that seized him. "Just,"he dragged a caressing hand down my cheek, "promise me you won't thrust yourself into a dangerous situation, again." He pressed his lips against my other cheek. "Okay?"

As he broke off, I looked into his eyes and recognized the passion there. Heat pooled in my stomach, shooting down below my waistband. "I promise," I breathed. We leaned in and our mouths joined hungrily. I'm not sure when we moved into his bedroom, but I soon felt the ultra cushiony material of his mattress underneath us. I remember him removing my shirt, his lips trailing kisses down my body to right above the waistband of my jeans.

It felt_ so_ good. My entire body seemed to be tingling with an electric sort of energy. I remember undoing my fly for him, pulling my jeans and boxers down my legs… the feeling of that sultry, almost gray in the dim lighting, blue gaze looking to me for permission that I was _more_ than happy to grant. I remember groaning a little too loudly as I lost my innocence to that beautiful, pink, hot mouth. …_Fuck_…

Before things could get too intense, I was removing Ryan's clothes to get better access to him, and kissing at his creamy, silky-smooth skin, my mouth teasing his pink nipples and the area above his beautiful cock. After seeing so many while changing and showering with my teammates in the locker room, I was unfazed by the sight of one standing at attention for me. In fact, it only amplified the heat and longing in my lower body to know that he felt this way about me. That, hard as it was to believe, _I_ was _making _him feel this way.

I looked into those eyes that knew the world, that knew me better than I knew myself, and I just knew in my heart, knew with my entire being, that I wanted to be inside of him… _so badly_. That I needed to feel him around me, around my manhood.

He felt the same way too, voicing his desire for me with a low moan of urgency that went directly to my cock, making it ache.

I recall nearly freaking out, terrified of hurting Ryan with my inexperience. We were both virgins, and I knew that this, um, "style", can really hurt the one who's "taking it". I'm still not sure how we decided who would top, but I wanted to do everything I could to make this good for him. He deserved the best first time that I could give him.

When I panicked again, Ryan caressed my face, ran his hands through my hair, and held me, soothing me with his melodic, lilting voice,"It's okay, Troy. I trust you. You've got this," until, finally, my head clear, I reached into the pockets of my discarded jacket. I felt around until I found the tube of lubricant with a note attached:

Thank your mom for this.

-Dad

I'm pretty sure there was a condom in there, too, but it was a ,"heat of the moment", kind of thing. Besides, both of us were clean, being total virgins, and all.

With some guidance and instruction from Ryan, and knowledge gained from my own research on Google, I coated myself with the cool gel-like stuff, and eased my way in. I'll _never_ forget the sharp breath Ryan sucked in when I first penetrated, and the sensation of me inside of him… him clenched tight around me…. With one thrust, I hit his, "spot", and his yelp of ecstasy punctuated the moment. He was so warm. So tight. So _incredible. _But, above all_, _there was a _real_ connection between us, something greater than our two bodies moving together, mine inside of his. It was like our souls, our hearts came together. It was cosmic. _Mind-blowing. _I loved every second of it.

This feeling of-was it love?- filled me, tightening my chest. It, along with the sound of Ryan crying out my name in the absolute hottest way possible at the peak of this… inferno.

The two of us arrived at climax, him just a few seconds before me, after what could have been ten minutes, or ten hours.

Panting, we flopped down onto his luxurious mattress. My body was sort of numb and tingling, but everything that touched my bare skin felt _amazing_. It was like I had taken Ecstasy, or something.

That senses-stilling smile crept onto Ryan's face, illuminating it.

I returned the smile, my heart swelling.

Gabriella had made me feel similar to this once. But, this feeling of heart-melting warmth that dominated and overrode everything else, was associated with just _Ryan_. I drew him Ryan into me, letting him bury his face in the crook of my neck, and we stayed like that, snuggled naked together under the covers. For the rest of the night, it felt like the world was made up of only the two of us.

And, I honestly have to say; Thanks, mom. And, dad.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **I have no ownerships claims to any characters in the "High School Musical" universe or the steeple of hilarious awesomeness that is the song, "I Just Had Sex" by The Lonely Island. 

Chapter 5

I decided to take Ryan out for breakfast that next morning. Coincidentally, that morning, Chad called to let me know that he was back in town for a short time. I was all too eager to see him again, so I drove Ryan to the sidewalk cafe Chad had specified we meet up at. When we arrived, I hopped out and jogged around my truck to grab the door for Ryan, who blushed prettily, and thanked me for my chivalry. Flattered, I took hold of his hand and helped him with the sometimes difficult task of stepping out of my rusted hand-me-down pick-up.

Ry was looking forward to seeing Chad again, as well. During the summer before our senior year, the two of them got along pretty well. Although, they weren't as close to each other as I am with either of them.

I quickly spotted my best friend's fantastic head of hair seated at one of the tables. Chad and I greeted each other with our customary handshake and that back-patting, one-armed hug that guys give one another when they don't want to appear too emotional. Ryan asked me once why guys, in particular, the heterosexual ones, look down on displays of affection with the same sex. To be honest, I couldn't answer him. I guess it might have to do with fathers constantly reminding their sons to, "man up", throughout childhood. That would probably have a lasting impact on the kids' psyches.

Chad's greeting for Ryan consisted of an awkward fist pound. Ry hesitated at the fist extended to him, unsure of what to do, until I mimed the action for him. He was so adorable.

The three of us sat down at the table and began catching up. Being around Chad reminded me of the more than nine-hundred miles I had stupidly put between us in order to be near Gabriella, the girl I had broken ties with. My relationship with her wasn't strong enough to last _two months_ after high school, but I was blind enough to believe it would somehow endure _four years_ of college.

What the hell was I thinking; ditching my best friend for a girl who kept turning away from me? A girl who I would have done anything for, and she still wouldn't have been satisfied… I can only shake my head in a sort of disgusted awe.

Chad told us that Taylor would be studying Political Science. It was obvious that he was proud of her. We all were.

"She's gonna do great things," I said with a smile.

"Of course she is," Chad grinned. "One day she and I will both make headline news. Me on ESPN and her on CNN."

I playfully gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "You can count on me to DVR it, man."

He looked back and forth between me and Ryan. "So, how are things goin' for you in the land of rainbows?"

"Great," Ryan and I answered simultaneously.

Chad's eyes twinkled mischievously. "I'll bet you guys go at it like rabbits, right?"

I gaped at him, feeling my face heat up.

Raising his hands to his face, Ryan tried to conceal his own blushing.

At Chad's knowing smile, I gave an embarrassed chuckle.

"I knew it!" My friend exclaimed. "Hold on." He pulled out his phone and typed something into the keypad. Music began to play and he angled the phone toward us, letting us see the images on the screen. It was a music video from Youtube featuring Andy Samberg and Jorma Taccone of The Lonely Island, the "Jizz In My Pants" guys, and the singer Akon.

"Sometimes," Andy Samberg said, "something beautiful happens in this world."

_Oh _Akon sang simultaneously. _Akon_

_ And Lonely Island_

"You don't know how to express yourself," Andy went on. "So, you just gotta sing."

_I just had sex! _Akon sang out with pride.

"Oh my gosh." The words escaped Ryan's mouth in a low inflection. His hands cupped over the bridge of his nose and his mouth to muffle his awkward giggles.

_And it felt so good_

_ (Felt so good)_

_ A woman let me put_

_ My penis inside of her_

"Well, you did it with a dude. Same deal." Chad said, grinning.

It was almost like reliving the mortifying ordeal with my dad. I'm sure my face had turned about the shade of my former Wildcats jersey, but I wasn't ashamed to have slept with Ryan. Sharing that information with my best friend was a bit embarrassing, but that's what guys do. Right?

Like the song said, "I'll never go back". I wouldn't want to. The experience was too exhilarating, too freeing, to wish to forget. I hugged Ryan close to me to let him know just how I felt.

-Paranoid-

Around the beginning of August, the temperature dropped drastically. I somehow managed to avoid getting called in to speak with the police, and receive a punishment for my scrape with Ryan's would-be-attacker. Even though part of me felt like I deserved some sort of penalty for hurting someone.

Ryan told me that he couldn't imagine me being charged with misdemeanor when I was only protecting someone precious to me from a possibly armed drug-fiend. "That guy probably has a bounty on his head, anyway, so I doubt he'd go to the police. Besides, I'm sure he's gotten into rougher scuffles." Ryan also offered to vouch for me, something few people in my life had done. Thinking back, it seems Gabriella was always accusing me of being the deal breaker.

"If I wound up in jail, would you bail me out?" I asked, half teasing him, half honestly curious.

"Of course!" He answered in an impassioned way. "You're so beautiful compared to the other scourges of the earth, you'd be the prime slab of warm, supple flesh for any sexually repressed murderer. And we _can't_ have that."

"No. No we can't!" I placed a kiss on his forehead, inwardly shuddering at the thought of a big, hairy, middle-aged man with a psychotic gleam in his eye creeping up on me. "Thanks, babe."

He smiled softly. "Don't mention it."

-Dance In The Dark-

August nineteenth-or was it the twentieth?-Ryan and I were in a crash that finally totaled my poor, ancient, hand-me-down pick up. My truck was a rusted Ford with chipped paint in several places, and a completely deceased radiator cap. It was untrustworthy, not to mention entirely unsafe, but damn it, that old truck had grown to be like an extension of myself since my dad had given it to me the summer of my junior year. To see the poor thing with the fender bent and just barely hanging on, the front end crumpled up like tin foil, a headlight smashed, and the windshield cracked… It _hurt _me_. _Miraculously, Ryan and I escaped unharmed from the death trap. The driver and the passenger of the other car, a Sedan, emerged with only a few minor cuts. They were a couple, too, and they stared in disbelief at the wreckage, the guy fidgeting uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, kid," he said. He shot a guilty look at the cell phone in his hand.

"Are either of you boys hurt?" The woman asked, her eyes wide and troubled.

"We're f-fine." Ryan gave a brief nod.

"Fine," I agreed. I felt Ry's eyes on me and knew that he realized I really wasn't. I was shaking from head to toe. I kept thinking over and over; _What if the windshield had shattered on us? What if the truck had flipped over? What if we had been hit by a semi? What if…? What if…? _A brief image of Ryan slumped over in the passenger seat, his body torn and bleeding, and his blood staining my clothes and hands, flashed into my mind. When awareness of my surroundings returned to me, I recognized that I was snuggled into his shoulder, my heart thudding and aching fiercely. Lights flashed around us as the paramedics, the police, and a tow truck arrived on the scene. I felt Ryan's hands rubbing gently down my back.

"Hey, Troy, shh…" he soothed me. "I'm still here. We're both still here. It's all right."

I barely held in a sob. A lump tightened in my throat. "…Ryan…"

He pressed his cheek against my jaw. "I'm right here."

I breathed in his scent, letting it fill my nostrils, letting it register in my brain as real. I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him. He's still here. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost him.

A cop approached us, and we regurgitated the details of the crash to the best of our abilities. Because I was a teen driver, he asked me for my license, and asked if either of us had been drinking. Both of us calmly denied it. The cop looked us over, saw how badly shaken we were, and left us alone. After he walked away, Ryan and I watched as the red and blue lights danced on the cracked windshield of my truck. The hook of the tow truck latched onto the bent fender. I held tightly to Ryan as my old truck was pulled away, littering shards of glass as it went.

The ambulance soon pulled away as well. I glanced at the dent in the door of the yellow Sedan and its owners who were pleading their case to the police officer. My gaze then fell on Ryan who, although badly unsettled like I was, was still standing, conscious, breathing. I drew him into a soft kiss, thanking whoever or whatever for the fact that no one, especially him, was being taken away in the back of an emergency vehicle.

- -Waking Up-

Sleep didn't come easily to me that night. I finally snapped out of my daze to hail a taxi. The couple offered to give us a lift home, but Ryan politely declined. There had been enough trouble for one night, and I'm sure everyone involved wished we never had to go through such an ordeal in the first place.

"It's not your fault," Ryan told me in the cab. "You were diligently watching the road. You didn't do anything wrong."

I looked at him, at the intense blaze of honesty in his eyes, and managed a weak smile. I wasn't ready to face my parents, and tell my dad what happened to the truck he had given me. I knew I'd _have_ to by the next day, but the thought was too much to cope with just then.

Ryan, like always, knew that. He didn't pressure me. When we got to his house, he lead me silently to his room. He phoned my parents and told them that I would be staying the night, then made his way back over to me. He removed my shirt. That instantly regained my attention and got my mind off of the guilt and the, "What if"s. I watched in silent fascination as he unbuttoned his dress shirt, his fingers moving nimbly from his collar, down to the spot over his fly, like they glided over piano keys. Reaching out, he took hold of my hand and brought it to the silky flesh he exposed.

"This is _real_," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. He guided my hand down his abdomen. I spread my fingers, wanting to touch as much of him as possible.

"Yeah," I murmured.

Ryan's skin felt cool, but my warmth transferred to him from the contact. He brought my hand to his chest, Pressing his hand to mine, he let me feel his heart beating within the cavity in his torso. "I'm _not_ dead." He nuzzled into my neck. The images of his mangled corpse, the "what if"s, all left my mind. His small, skinny body was against mine, his breath ghosted across my neck. He was in my arms. Solid, real, _alive_. Tears welled, glittering in his eyes, "I'm not dead," he repeated.

"No," I whispered. The numbness in my body ebbed away. It finally dawned on me how my unresponsiveness was affecting him. "You're not." I took hold of his jaw and brought his mouth to mine, crushing our lips together, savoring Ryan. Moments passed us by. They could have been days or years for all I cared. I wanted him at my side everyday. I didn't want any force in this life, in the universe to come between us. Breaking off, I looked into his eyes. "You're still with me."

"I have no intention of leaving you."

I scooped him into my arms, pressing my forehead against his. Joy filled me from end to end. I transported both of us to his magnificent bed, where we curled up together, his head against my chest, tucked safely under my chin.

For a while after his breathing eased and he slipped off to sleep, I lay awake, thinking. _Is this love? _I wondered. I thought I knew what that was. I thought Gabriella and I had the, "real thing", in high school. Butterflies in your stomach when they're around, always on your mind, missing them terribly when they're gone…

I felt all of those things for Ryan, only amplified. Gabriella and I had a very innocent, almost child-like relationship compared to everyone else around us. It took six months of dating before we even had our first kiss. It only took Chad and Taylor three weeks to get to that point. I didn't even realize Gabriella and I were going out for quite a while. People just assumed we were, so we took that next, natural step, our closeness making it easier for us to fit into those roles that people expected us to play. But, with Ryan, I was free to defy that role of, "golden boy". Unlike Gabriella, he didn't have any unspoken expectations for me. Where Gabriella was always quick to lay the blame on me, like she had when she broke up with me at Lava Springs, whenever I tried to blame myself, Ryan responded with,"_It's not your fault_."

The thought of losing Ryan had _devastated _me. I felt like I was suffocating when I considered the, "what-if", scenarios of the crash's aftermath. Losing Gabriella three times was never so _unbearable. _

She had told me she, "loved", me.

I never said it back.

Was I ready to say it Ryan? Ryan, who was lovely both inside and out? Who I wanted to protect, and just _be with_, no matter what?

-Is This Love?-

The next morning, I had a plan. I woke myself up before dawn to set things up. I was sacrificing precious sleep, but this was more important than sleeping in until noon.

When Ryan awoke, I was standing over him with a bowl of Cheerios and bananas; his favorite fruit and cereal combination. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gave me the most heart-liquifying smile. "Breakfast in bed?"

"Of course. Anything for my favorite boy," I grinned, handing over the bowl.

"I never understood the lure of bad boys," Ryan said thoughtfully between intervals of chewing. His gaze slid to me. "Just give me a wonderful, devoted, strong, beautiful man, and I'll never ask for anything more."

My heart leapt. I felt like I was soaring. Like I was invincible.

I waited for him to finish eating in his polite and proper manner. While he ate, he asked me if I'd ingested anything, myself. I had eaten a bowl of Lucky Charms. Ryan and his family didn't really approve of sugary cereal consumption, but I managed to convince him to pick a box up the last time we went shopping together. I'd need something to eat when I slept over, after all.

Soon, he finished, then began prepping himself for the day's adventures. I helped him pick out an outfit; a sea green dress shirt, black dress pants and a matching fedora, and watched him dress. I never would have sat there and watched Gabriella strip down to her bra and underwear. It would have been, well, _weird_. I would have felt like I was intruding somehow… not to mention that the whole situation would have been extremely uncomfortable. I've only ever seen any girl in a bathing suit, after all. With Ryan, this sort of thing felt oddly natural. Besides, we'd seen each other naked, before.

Then, I told him I'd arranged a surprise for him. He tilted his head in that adorable way, and then fell into step with me. I covered his eyes, pressing against him to make sure he didn't fall as I guided him through the complex infrastructure of his home. He asked where we were going. I told him that was part of the surprise.

At last, I lead him out into the courtyard, which was about the size of my backyard combined with at least four or five of my neighbors' yards. "Do you know where we are?" I asked him.

He listened. "I hear birds… feel wind… are we outside?"

His observations were infallibly accurate. I couldn't help but grin. "Yep. Impressive as always." I pulled my hands away, and waited for his reaction to the sight his eyes would meet.

Earlier that morning, I had hooked up a stereo, after checking the forecast to make sure no inclement weather would roll in and fry it. While I was at work, one of the butlers had been just arriving. He had paused to give me a peculiar look. I had given him a jaunty salute, and continued with my task.

Ry had enlightened me once, while we were strolling through a playground in the park, that my company meant the world to him.

"With Shar gone, I would have spent my days writing music, watching any remotely entertaining gay flicks, reading, and talking to whoever, or whatever would listen. The butlers aren't very talkative, and the younger maids just look at me and giggle. Sometimes, I disturb myself with thoughts that they're entertaining fantasies of ,"cleaning", me while purring about how ,"_dirrrrty_", I am." What would have been the erotic fantasy of most men sounded nightmarish and actually revolting from his point of view. In response to that, I had screwed up my face, and told him not to do that to himself, anymore.

"I'm so happy that you're here, Troy," he'd relayed, smiling softly, serenely.

"Me too." The prospect of hanging out with anyone other than him or Gabriella, at the beginning of the summer, had been particularly unexciting. At that time, Gabriella and I having gone our separate ways, there was no one else _but _the incredible blond theater nerd that I wanted to be around.

"What is all this?" Ry's eyes slowly widened, a sort of thrilled astonishment tugging up the corners of his mouth. He turned to me.

"Last night," I began, "I was thinking about us. About how you make my heart race, how I feel like I could spread my arms and take flight when I look into your eyes. How I love your smile. How I adore that twinkle in your eyes when you're amused, and that sparkle when something fills you with joy." I took his hand and linked our fingers, tracing a circle on his palm with my thumb. I locked eyes with him, watching his facial muscles closely for a reaction. "I love the way your hair is tousled before you fix it in the morning. The way your pants fit you in all the right ways. Your endless supply of hats. The way you crinkle your nose when you're really excited about something."

His brows knitted together, tears welling in his sky-colored eyes. I knew that they were tears of pure bliss. From somewhere behind me, music began to play, streaming from the stereo. I turned and spotted the butler I had greeted that morning. He gave me a nod, and I flashed a smile of gratitude.

"But most of all," I continued, "Ry."

Ryan glanced up at me, using his free hand to wipe away the glittering droplets of moisture that had gathered in his eyes before they could spill over. "Yeah?"

The music cued me in, and I sang:

_Once I had this girl_

_ I thought she was my world_

_ Then we hit a bump_

_ And she said that was enough_

_ She left me time and time_

_ Again_

_ And anytime I needed a friend_

_ All I had to do was look_

_ And find you waitin'_

_No matter how it hurt_

_ You always put me first_

_ That's somethin' that few people _

_ Would do_

_ And I've gotta make it up to you_

_ So baby, let me tell you_

_ I would do anything for you_

_ 'Cause I never wanna be apart_

_ I know in my heart_

_ I love you_

I ended the note, pointing to Ryan.

"You wrote a song for _me_?" He asked, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his emotions.

"I know it's not as good as anything you or Kelsi could have done, but sometimes expressing yourself in song is easier…"

"Troy, it's _wonderful_." He cut me off gently, his smile causing my heart to pound as though I'd just broken into a sprint for five minutes straight. "B-but, is it true?" He inquired in a barely there voice, needing reassurance. He could never just trust his gut instinct. Sure, he was confident, but that was when he was performing. He needed assurance, praise and love as much as anyone else. Maybe even more so.

"Of course it is." I took both of his hands into mine. My blue eyes met his. I put every ounce of passion I had for him into the next words I spoke. "I-I love you, Ryan." Never had four words felt so incredibly, completely _right_, coming from my mouth.

He moved in and took me into a kiss. I held his trembling body tight, kissing him as if I would fall apart, as if both of us would, without contact from each other. He was my oxygen; fueling me, keeping me going. Lovingly, his fingers combed through my hair. My happy place had never been more solid, more fortified.

And, I had never felt more complete.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. The plot and the plot alone is mine. **

** Warning! Avast! M-rated content ahead!**

Chapter 6

Together, Ryan and I broke the news to my parents about the truck. Ryan made sure to speak in my defense, and tell them that it wasn't my fault. My mom and dad were surprisingly sympathetic as Ry and I took turns recounting the harrowing tale. Some of the traumatic feelings were resurrected by reliving the crash, or what fragmented bits we could remember, through words.

"I-I was driving Ryan home."

"We were listening to music… some song by Pink or Rihanna, or something."

"I _swear _I never took my hands off the wheel."

"He didn't."

"A-And if I looked away from the road-"

"It was for maybe a nanosecond, and then he was right back to diligently watching the road. Y-Your son is a very good driver. I feel more safe riding with him than with my own sister." Ryan tried a smile to ease my nerves and diffuse some of the tension.

It helped a little. "Th-Then there were headlights, they just came at us-"

"They materialized right out of the dark… W-we had no reaction time."

"I tried to tell myself to swerve out of the way, to hit the brakes… But, my arms and legs just wouldn't work."

"And then…" Ryan flinched as he spoke and everything flooded back. The sound of metal being crushed, of tires skidding across the pavement…

Somehow, _miraculously_, we managed to walk away from the crash with all parts intact.

He took hold of my hand and squeezed it tightly. I returned the gesture of comfort. I don't know if I would have been able to handle that without him.

I waited, expecting my parents to freak, to spaz, to throw a fit.

Instead, my dad said, "A car's a car, Troy. You can replace one of those. You _can't _replace a kid, though." He walked over and took me into a hug. I chocked back a sob as I found myself pressed against his thick, sturdy frame.

"Thank God, you're all right." My mom embraced me next. She stepped back and took hold of my chin, her eyes scanning my face for traces of injury. "Troy, there's a cut on your eye."

"Mom, it's fine." I didn't feel up to the daunting task of telling them _that _story, and then sitting through the lecture that would come with it. Ryan and I had already established that I was no, "Man of Steel", and would not be throwing myself into dangerous situations where they could be avoided.

I made a promise to hold true to that. I didn't need Ry believing that he was somehow bringing these potential disasters on me. I believed the opposite; that he was my good luck charm, and him being there helped me escape unscathed.

I noticed my boyfriend hanging back, smiling the quiet smile of someone who recognizes the beauty of a place that they don't belong to.

My parents must have noticed, too, for they made their way over to him.

"We're very glad that you made it out all right as well, Ryan," my mom said, taking his hand. "You mean a lot to our son."

"I know," Ryan said, blushing slightly. "Thank you, Mrs. Bolton." I came up on Ry's left side and draped an arm around his shoulders, the two of us trading smiles.

"It's pretty obvious Troy's crazy about you," my dad added. "His face went as red as his jersey when I asked him about you."

I felt that familiar heat creeping across my face. "Uh, dad…" I said through my teeth, forcing a laugh. I quickly dragged a hand across my throat, signaling for him to cut it out.

"Oh come on, Troy! You act like your mom and I were never your age and in love. Lighten up a little." My dad wrapped an arm around my mom's backside, smiling knowingly.

Of course. Once upon a time, everyone's parents were young… impulsive… rebellious… horny-uh, fuck. I need brain bleach, now.

I did manage to give my dad an awkward half-smile.

Once my parents left the room, I took Ryan out to my treehouse. He marveled over it in an arguably more mature way than Gabriella had. Instead of grabbing onto my childhood memories and teasing me for holding onto them, he remarked, "This is surprisingly sexy."

"Is it?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," he replied. "The fact that you have a treehouse; a quintessential part of most boys' childhoods, that cape," he nodded toward a red Superman cape that I _swear_ belongs to Chad. "It shows how far you've come along. How much you've," his eyes flicked over my body and a sexy smirk tugged at his candy lips, "_grown_. Maybe I'm a sexual deviant, but I think that's sort of hot."

I couldn't help but smile, my cheeks heating up. "I can kick the heat up a notch, if you'd like." The two of us were planning on camping out in there. The last person who was in the treehouse with me was Gabriella, and all we had done while up there was talk about the impending separation college would bring, and cuddle a few times. I wanted to make sure Ryan's first time up there was memorable for the both of us… and not for any depressing reason.

We sang along to Bon Jovi's voice-cracking, "Living On A Prayer", as we listened to it on my I-pod. Okay, it was voice-cracking for me, anyway. Ryan hit the high notes just fine. We rocked out to Bowling For Soup's, "1985", air-guitaring, and Ryan laughing as I tossed my hair in a fierce head bang. I'm sure we looked like idiots, but we plunged into our world, hoping that we could forget the real world existed. Because in the real world, the day when we would be separated by the distance of the entire country was right around the corner.

My dad brought out beers, making Ry and I swear not to tell my mom. Of course we wouldn't. Ryan privately crinkled his nose in displeasure at the drink, but said nothing to my dad, and thanked him for his generosity. I murmured my thanks and found out once my dad went back inside, that Ryan isn't exactly a fan of the taste or smell of beer. He prefers wine, margaritas, and anything with a more fruity taste.

I didn't blame him. Beer doesn't have an amazing taste, but it was our last summer as, well, _kids_, and I wanted us to enjoy it.

Ry did muster up the courage to take a few gulps. Soon the sparkle was back in his eyes and both of us were dancing and grinding to some Lady Gaga song that Ry informed me she wrote about her fear of drug-addiction. The verses had something to do with the speaker, "touching", themselves, "all through the night".

All that I could make out from the chorus were the words, "So happy I could die". With Ryan grinding against me, gyrating his hips in a way that was _so _incredibly arousing, my dick hard as a rock, and a buzz clouding my brain, that's exactly how I felt.

The next thing I knew, our flies were undone, our pants were sitting at our knees and I was balls deep in Ryan's beautiful ass. I clung to him, and he braced himself against a wall as I thrusted harder. He was so tight, and it felt so _amazing_.

We called out each other's names, his name coming as naturally from my mouth as the hot white cum came from the end of my other head. Shaking from release, we buckled onto the sleeping bags that were spread out on the wooden floor of the structure. The both of us flopped onto our sides and stared into each other's eyes.

"I love you, Troy," Ryan murmured. He placed a soft kiss on my lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Ryan." I pulled him into me, deepening the kiss. I felt his soft skin under my fingertips, his tongue being caressed by mine. It seemed like time slowed to a stop, that Ryan and I were the world. That we were forever.

Between the changing tracks of music, the only sounds were our breathing as it eased, our racing hearts slowing, and the smacking of our lips.

-Waking Up-

Within a few days of our camp out in the treehouse (Sorry for desecrating our childhood innocence, Chad), Ryan gave me a lift on his moped to his house. Yeah, I rode clinging to his waist like a girl. I know, I know, _hilarious_. He said he had a surprise for me.

Ecstatically, he took my by the hand, and pulled up to the huge, four limousine accommodating garage. He told me to close my eyes. I heard the door rising, and my heart pounded as I wondered what was in there for me. At last, he gave me the okay to open my eyes up. When I did, my heart leapt at what I saw.

It was a gray Mazda. A CAR. Ryan got me a freaking CAR! I could have leapt on him and shagged him a good five times, I was so overjoyed. Instead, I settled for lifting him off the ground, and twirling him around, letting him know that he is the best boyfriend in the history of ever.

Later, when he told me how much it had cost, about twenty-two thousand dollars, I wasn't pleased to know that he was splurging on me. At least, until he reminded me that his family owns a country club, and he and Sharpay both receive a portion of the money raked in by the family business.

"I bought this for you, because I know how upset you were when you lost your truck, because, I can't leave my boyfriend without a reliable method of transportation, and because you're so absolutely wonderful, you deserve it."

After thanking him several times and kissing his cheek, neck, nose and mouth, I was so hyped up, I could hardly contain my excitement. I asked him if he wanted to go for a drive with me. I was hoping that having him with me would help me conquer my fear of getting behind the wheel.

Again, he recognized this. I could tell that he was a bit wary of riding in a vehicle, too. Before he could second-guess himself, and call himself, "thoughtless", and, "inconsiderate", for buying me a trauma-inducing gift, I regained my confidence. Determination flaring in me, I took his hand and together, we went on our first drive since the collision. My heart raced as I turned the key in the ignition. I went through the procedures; adjusting the mirror, buckling my seatbelt, mentally talking myself through everything. We were both pretty jumpy, and flinched if passing cars came too close, our hearts leaping into our throats, but somehow, we made it to the nearest Circle K.

Once I shifted the gear into park, we turned to each other. It sank in that I had made it, that we hadn't crashed, we weren't bleeding, dying or being smothered by the airbag. We were _okay_. I began to laugh triumphantly, pumping my fist and letting out a cheer. I felt like I was on top of the world, and Ryan was right there with me.

"You did it, Troy!" Ryan exclaimed.

"No, baby. _We _did it!"

He finally caught my joy, and we leaned over and locked lips. Exhilaration and adrenaline coursed through my veins, thanks to him.

That night, we watched _Hairspray_ at Ryan's house. I wouldn't have admitted it to any of the guys on the team, even Chad, but _Hairspray_ is actually a favorite movie of mine. I like its message; that people who are different can make a place for themselves in the world. And, sometimes I catch myself singing, "Good Morning Baltimore", "Nicest Kids In Town", and yeah, even, "Ladies' Choice", in the shower. Ry and I sang along to the songs, laughing at the, "Kiss my ass", line delivered by Link Larkin, and Seaweed's, "Calm down, cracker boy."

Ryan picked up on a resemblance between me and Link's actor, Zac Efron.

I laughed it off. "No way, that dude's _way _hotter than me."

"He is _not_," he argued, playfully nudging me. "Did you take a good look at his tongue?"

I shook my head, letting out a laugh. Leave it to Ryan to pay attention to the odd little things. "Weirdo," I teased him, tickling his flat stomach. "What are you doing, staring at people's tongues?"

"I couldn't help it!" he explained, trying and failing to push my hand away. "In, "I Can Hear The Bells", it was just _there_!"

We watched the rest of the movie. I listened to Ryan belt out Queen Latifah's rendition of ,"Big, Blonde and Beautiful", and threatened to tickle him again, if he thought the, "big" part applied to him in anyway other than his stage presence, or describing his heart.

Once we sang through the final songs and the credits had rolled, we were back in our world, me straddling him. I was happily marking his neck, listening to him mewl with satisfaction. He bucked his hard-on into mine, and pleasure shot through my body. I nipped at his neck and lower lip. I wanted to pay him back, reward him for the car, for standing by me, for _everything_. I undid his fly and he gave me a look of surprise. "Troy, you don't have to."

"I want to. I want to make you feel good. To say, "Thank you", I said.

I worked his tight jeans and boxers down his body, revealing that creamy skin that got me so hot. I stroked his freckling of pubes, then took hold of his cock. A growl of pleasure rose in his creamy throat. I traced a circle around the tip of his manhood, and he went rigid, clenching the material of the couch. A low moan escaped him. I pumped hard, like I did when I had to resort to this method of self-pleasure, and he went crazy. "Fuck!" He cried out. "Oh, Troy! Trooooy!"

I felt my own dick straining against my jeans. It throbbed every time he groaned, growled, or said my name in pure ecstasy. "You're beautiful… you're so hot, Ry…" I told him, appreciating every thing about him. At last, I brought him to climax, and he came hard into my hand. Wearily, I cuddled against him. As he panted, I kissed his neck and jawline. "…Love you _so much_."

"I love you, too," he whispered. He bit down on my earlobe, and I nearly came.

-Dirty Little Secret-

I made sure that I arrived at 6:45 sharp to snag a front row seat for Ry's show. He was involved in a production of _Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street_. All of the leads were really good, Sweeney, Judge Turpin, (Mrs. Lovett was a bit screechy at some parts, and Johanna was just a little pitchy, but they were still pretty amazing), but Ryan just outshone them all as the sailor, Anthony. His voice sailed out into the audience, manic, eerie, haunting, as he conveyed Anthony's desire for Johanna, daughter of Sweeney, and ward of the cruel judge.

When he started out his solo, I grinned and gave him the thumbs up to let him know that I was right there, supporting him. Like a true professional, he didn't break character, but I didn't miss the sparkle in his eyes.

At the final curtain, I was on my feet, giving him a standing ovation. During the curtain call, he caught my eye and broke into a beautiful smile before dropping into a graceful bow with the pretty blonde girl who played Johanna. I lead the applause, reminding myself not to catcall. It was a performance hall, not a basketball court or, "hockey arena", in the words of Ms. Darbus, our high school drama teacher.

We walked together. I praised Ryan over and over for his skills.

He thanked me, that pretty blush coloring his cheeks. To celebrate the fantastic show, I took him out for dinner at Outback Steakhouse. Over the appetizer of cheese fries (Ryan extracted all of the bacon bits from what he ate, because he doesn't eat red meat), we stared deeply into each other's eyes.

"I'm so proud of you," I told him. "You're gonna make it big, one day."

He smiled softly. "You really think I've got what it takes?"

"Of course I do. And, don't tell Sharpay I said this, but," I paused to cast a wary glance over my shoulder, as if expecting the blonde girl to materialize behind me. "It seems to me that you work harder and deserve it more than her."

"Oh, Troy…!" We clasped hands and I ran a thumb over his knuckles. After we ordered dinner, we went back to talking, and I asked something I had been curious about all summer.

"Ry?"

"Hm?"

"Why haven't you hung out with Kelsi this summer?"

The mere mention of our tiny friend made Ryan's eyes widen, and the color drain from his cheeks. I immediately felt like I was intruding in some way. "Are you okay?" I wanted to know why he would react in such a way, but I wasn't going to push him. He never pushed me.

"We… we had a falling out," he replied. I could tell that he was searching for the proper wording. "Sort of like you and Gabriella."

"Me and Gabriella? Gabriella and I were…" It sunk in. "_Dating_."

He nodded slightly. "To me, we had a purely platonic relationship. But, to Kelsi, evidently it was something more."

From that alone, I knew something he hadn't intended to happen, had happened. He had hurt her in some way without ever meaning to.

"_Hey_," I comforted him. "Kelsi _will _forgive you. She's not a spite-filled person."

"I don't know. She's never exactly held my sister or me in the highest esteem. Besides," he lowered his voice. "I made her _cry_, Troy. During her favorite song at her Senior Prom."

I tried not to wince.

He went on. "All that I can remember is her body against mine, her perfume filling my lungs, her lips drawing in closer, me spazzing, because it was just too freaking _much_, and her refusing to leave the girls' restroom." His brows knitted together, his eyes darkening slightly to express the depth of his upset. "All because I'm a fag, and I couldn't give her what she wanted… what she expected, to make her night one to remember."

"Hey. That's_ not_ your fault." I got up from my seat opposite him in the booth, and took the seat on the cushion beside him. "Kelsi was the one who set her expectations too high," I draped an arm around his backside.

"I know that now," he said. He managed a small smile. "You're the first person who's defended me. Sharpay and Zeke had already disappeared by the time it happened. Chad and Jason wanted no part in the drama, and even though they didn't say anything, I could tell that Martha and Taylor were accusing me with their eyes. Girls always band together in times of trouble." He smiled humorlessly.

"That's some _serious _bullshit," I stated. "I wish I could have been there so you wouldn't have had to go it alone."

"You were doing your own thing. You missed Gabriella so much, and since she was unwilling to come to you, you went to her. I don't hold anything against you." The final six words were spoken in a barely-there murmur that was nearly choked with emotion.

I knew that he didn't blame me. The emotion came from a wish that had taken so long to come true, the wisher had just about given up hope in it ever happening. "I'm here now," I told him. I told myself.

"I know." He laid his head on my shoulder, and I lightly rested my head on his. Maybe I couldn't fix his past, but I could make his present, his future, and every second of his life with me, something better. Something so great, we would both look back on our high school years; the mistakes we made, the hearts we unintentionally shattered, and the friends we had, with a feeling of nostalgia and a laugh.

-Always There-

"Shouldn't you be prioritizing your education? I'm not lecturing you… I'm just-! ….Looking out for you, okay?"

My sleep was breached as Ryan's voice broke through. His overall inflection was calm, but the little tremors I had grown used to picking out, gave away layers of distress, shock, and sadness. I opened my eyes and listened in on the conversation, staring at his form on the end of his kingsize bed.

"I just thought you had a better sense of yourself than that."He shifted. It was obvious he was in the middle of a phone call.

A familiar voice harshly answered his questions. What had Sharpay done this time?

"No, it's fine. You're following your dreams. And, I have to follow mine." I heard his voice crack almost inaudibly. "Good luck, Sis… Love you, too."

The call disconnected. By the time Ryan was shutting his phone, I had my arms around his slender body, his back against my chest.

"Shar's decided to put off going to college in order to, "find herself"," he informed me.

I stared, somewhat confused.

"I always thought that my sister was so confident, that she had a set idea of her future." Ryan shook his head."I guess I always sort of aspired to be like her. If she doesn't know who she is after all of these years…How do I know who I am?" He turned and buried his face in the crook of my neck.

I was bewildered. Sharpay, the over-confident-to-the-point-of-arrogance-drama-queen wasn't ready to go back to school because she didn't know who she was? What the _hell_? "Don't worry about her, Ry," I advised him. "She's doing her thing. You're going to do yours, and be the star that you were born to be. You're already on your way. And, you know what else?"

He looked up to me.

My voice softened. "When that day comes, and your face decorates the cover of magazines, and I hear your voice every time I turn on the radio, I'll be _right there_, cheering you on."

"I _do_ have an advantage over everyone else," Ry said with a smile, his breath tickling my neck softly, giving me goosebumps. "I have you." His lean arms crept around me and we held each other tight.

"Yeah." I rubbed over his back, stroking his spine and shoulder blades. "You have me, baby."

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my work in the past, and will review my work in the future. Reviews are fuel for the writer's soul. **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I knocked on one of the walls in Ryan's doorway. The door was open, but knocking was sort of a force of habit. He came to the door, smiling earnestly. Behind the earnest, though, I could sense sadness.

"Troy!" He greeted me.

"Hey, I wanted to see what you were up to."

His smile faded. His eyes fell to the ground. "…Packing," he answered me, his voice flat.

I put my hands in my pockets, suddenly feeling awkward. It was like I had to plant my feet, and force myself to not run away from this scene that I had walked into. "Packing". That's right. In less than 48 hours, he would be in New York, and I would be here, left behind, again, until I left for California. I would be closer to Gabriella than him. I wasn't ready to deal with that grief, feeling of loss, and gaping void for a second time so soon.

But, I wasn't going to latch onto Ryan and beg him to stay, either. I looked at the suitcases on the floor, packed with boxers, and socks, and tight-fitting pants, and brightly-colored shirts. There were lots of vests. And hats. Half of his hat closet had to be in there.

We had spent the majority of the summer pushing this inevitable reality away, hoping that, somehow, we could put it off and ignore it, extending our time together. Even though we knew we _couldn't_. It was the same thing that Gabriella and I had done. And, where had that gotten us?

Looking at Ryan's bed, seeing it perfectly made, I remembered all of the times we had rolled around in those sheets, the times we cuddled together under them, clothed or naked. The times we had made love…

I remembered how, at the beginning of our summer vacation, on that very bed, Ryan had, in not so many words, told me how he really felt about me. It seemed like a lifetime had gone by since then. A lifetime that was far too short.

My throat tightened. I never said, "Goodbye", to Gabriella or, even Chad. I didn't want to say it to Ryan, either. But, damn it…! My heart began aching, an intense pain that hit me with enough force to bowl me over. _Damn it!_

That was when I saw Ryan, tears streaking down his face. If what was happening then was hurting me, of course it was hurting _him_. I realized then, that I had to be the strong one this time. "Come here," I said softly.

He leaned into me, his body shaking as he finally let everything he had been holding in since that phone call from his sister, out. I held onto him, holding in my own sobs as tears pricked my eyes.

"…And I thought leaving you would be difficult before," he choked out. "Now…!"

"But, baby, it's not goodbye. Not yet." My voice quavered with desperation.

"I know, it's just…" His voice wasn't all that much stronger.

I rubbed a hand down his backside. Every song that I had sang with Gabriella over the years entered my head. If I could take them all back, travel back in time, and sing them to Ryan instead, I would have done it in a heartbeat.

"It'll be _so hard_, trying to function without you…"

I couldn't tell if he was talking to me, or himself, but _fuck_, like always, he hit the nail on the damn head.

"They say that you're supposed to have control over your life after high school, that the script is unwritten and you have the chance to write it… But right now, I feel like all of that control is slipping away."

I couldn't tell him everything would be okay. Not just then, but I wasn't going to stand there and let him cry as his heart broke, without doing anything about it. So, I lifted my voice.

_Tomorrow_, I sang

_They tell us to look _

_ Forward to tomorrow _

_ For our dreams to come true_

_ But what do I do_

_ When tomorrow means _

_ You'll be leavin'_

_ And all I'm dreamin' of is you?_

_ Baby, forget tomorrow_

_ Push it away_

_ We'll live for each other_

_ Right now, today_

He looked up at me, his blue eyes glowing, tears shining on the surface.

_And when tomorrow comes,_

_ At least then we can say_

_ We took advantage of the time we had_

_ And didn't let it slip away_

We rocked slowly back and forth, beginning to sway in a perfect rhythm, just like that day in rehearsals that seemed so long ago, and yet it felt like it was only yesterday.

Softly, Ryan sang:

_They say to wish upon a star_

_ For your wish to be realized_

_ But all that I was wishin' for _

_ Is here now, before my eyes_

Together, we turned gently.

_And twenty years from now_

_ I want things to stay that way_, I sang with him, our voices blending in heart-wrenching passion.

_So please_, he vocalized, _when tomorrow arrives_

I raised my voice in harmony with his, twirling him out in a re-enactment of our rehearsal.

_Don't let it take you away!_

I pulled him back into me, tipping him before lifting him off of the ground. I looked up, into his eyes, his shaking hands on my shoulders helping to keep him in the air.

_Baby, forget tomorrow,_

_ Push it away_

_ We'll live for each other_

_ Right now, today_

Slowly, I lowered him into my arms. Our voices harmonized for what I hoped would never be the last time.

_And when tomorrow comes,_

_ At least we can say,_

_ We took advantage of the time we had_

_ And didn't let it slip away_

We were silent for a minute and just stood there, afraid to break eye contact, to pull away from each other.

"Do you want me to help you pack?" I asked.

Ryan shook his head. "I…" He cleared his throat. "I can handle it."

"Hey," I tilted his chin up and wiped away the remaining tears in his eyes. "Smile, okay?" I gave him an encouraging smile of my own. "When you're happy, you light up the room."

He chuckled, embarrassed, a small smile breaking through the grief. Our foreheads pressed together, mine knocking into the brim of his hat.

"D-Do you have any regrets?" Ry inquired.

"Just one," I replied. He didn't need any elaboration.

He tilted his head and we kissed, my thumbs caressing his prominent pelvis bone. He parted his lips, letting my tongue delve into his mouth. I backed him into his bed and we fell back. I landed on top of him. We spent that day making love, cuddling, listening to music and talking. We were trying to fit an entire summer into a day. When the radio station played Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream", we sang along, singing to each other. He was my ,"Teenage Dream", made real. And, I knew from the look in his eyes that I was his, too.

When the sun went down, we kissed each other, and snuggled together.

"I love you, Ryan." I meant it with every bone and nerve in my body.

"I love you, too, Troy." He placed a soft kiss on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, never wanting to let go, and dreading the next day because I knew it meant that we would be parting ways for school. I would no longer be able to hold him safe in my arms. I told myself this separation is part of life. It's like Chad had said, "You can't take the girl with you after high school."

Then, I remembered what Ryan despairingly relayed to me, that we were supposed to be able to choose our own paths after high school.

Phil Collins's "Can't Stop Loving You", came out of the speakers.

I felt Ryan tense, and I knew he was still awake. Together, we listened to the lyrics that hit too close to home.

_So you're leavin'_

_ In the mornin'_

_ On the early train_

_ Well, I could say _

_ Everything's alright_

_ And I could pretend_

_ And say, "Goodbye"_

As the song went on, Phil Collins told the girl over and over that he just couldn't stop loving her. He never tried to stop her.

I knew if I asked Ryan, he would have stayed. That's the way he is. But, I _couldn't_ do that to him. He deserved his chance to shine.

I _couldn't_ stop loving him, either, though.

-30 Minutes-

I hardly slept. Ryan and I were awake and dressed by 5:45 that morning. He told me he needed about fifteen minutes to finish packing, and another fifteen to freshen up. That gave me a half-hour to prepare myself.

I already decided that I was going to drive him to the airport. I kissed his mouth and his hairline before walking out the door. He did a much better job of keeping his composure, and I was grateful that he had renewed strength. I would have completely lost it if he started crying again.

On the drive back to my place, I was alone with my thoughts. I had contemplated my decision all through the night. I wasn't being rash, or acting on an impulse. My head had never been so clear.

-Leavin' On A Jet Plane-

We pulled up in front of the airport. I maneuvered into a parking space. The lot was empty, other than a red jeep, and a green minivan, parked one to the left of us, and one behind us. Ryan and I sat in silence for a moment, collecting ourselves.

"It was a smooth ride, huh?" I asked. The Mazda was the last thing on my mind.

"It wasn't all smooth, but I wouldn't change it, any of it, for the world," he replied. He smiled bravely. I took his hand and linked our fingers. He held onto my larger hand for a moment, drawing in a breath. I heard him unbuckle his seatbelt, and then he pulled his hand from mine.

I knew Ryan was waiting for me to stop him, to pull him back into the car and drive away. He was waiting for me to do that, and at the same time, telling himself that he was hoping for, and expecting too much. He shut the trunk. Out of the passenger window, I watched him wheel one suitcase and carry the other up toward the doors of the building. He walked gracefully with a sense of determination, like a great hero off to war.

But, being the significant other who got left behind _wasn't _in my plans. I opened my door, climbed out, and jogged up to him, until there was only a few feet between us. "Ryan!" I called. "Wait!"

He halted, then turned to face me. "Troy, I'm _not _Gabriella." He planted his feet, his eyes revealing his inner turmoil. "I waited nearly four years for you to acknowledge me, to say my name. And almost a year longer for you to hold me in your arms. If I had to, I would wait until I'm old, gray and arthritic just to see your beautiful eyes, your bright smile, and hear your voice again."

When he finished, I spoke up, my heart pounding, and my legs an unsteady bundle of nerves. "Ry, I _can't _make you wait for me anymore... And, I can't wait either."

He flinched as if I had struck him. He thought that I was going to end it, to break up with him.

I had to amend that immediately. "I'm transferring."

He gaped, his blue eyes stretching wide in disbelief. "What?"

"To a school near Juilliard," I went on, clarifying things for him. "I thought of you, all alone at night in that huge city with no one to protect you. I just couldn't stand the thought of something happening, and me being miles away and unable to help. And... I _don't_ know what I'd do without you."

"But, Troy, your parents…"

I took a step closer. "I already discussed it with them. They think it's a great opportunity for me to get out and see the world. You know, to establish myself as an independent adult. And, if something goes wrong, I have you to help get me on my feet again."

Pink colored his cheeks and his eyes softened. He was near the point of melting into- I think the word's, "amorphous"- human goo. "Troy…!" He brought one hand to his chest. "What about Chad? Is he okay with it?"

At least he considered this. Gabriella never questioned me when I made the decision to attend a school 32.7 miles away from her, and nine-hundred miles away from my family and best friend.

I had called Chad up earlier that morning and told him of my plan. "He encouraged me to do it," I explained. "He said there's something between you and me that _wasn't _there with me and Gabriella."

Ryan moved forward, his expression open, almost accepting. There was one final question that had to be answered, though. "Are you _sure_ that this is what you want?"

"I've never wanted anything more in my life. You're my universe, Ryan."

He was close enough for me to hold him, to take him into my arms, and I did with no hesitation. We nuzzled our noses together, my heart swelling.

"How could you ever let me into the big, mean world? I asked, so happy to feel his body against mine once again.

"I couldn't if I tried," he answered.

We joined our mouths in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing. I admit, even without the revolving camera, the romantic music to punctuate the moment, and the slow pan out to the horizon, this kiss also sort of felt like something out of a romance movie.

But, this kiss was more authentic. There was more intensity to it, for one. And, Ryan and I were so much more than pretty people in a picturesque, prime setting.

The sun was burning blindingly in the sky. We could feel its heat, on our backs. The only thing that mattered, though, was the taste of each other's mouths, the closeness, the fact that we were _together_, and we were staying together.

By the time the plane that would have taken Ryan to New York was soaring overhead, we were in the car, on the way back to my house to pack.

Along the way, we drove past our former alma mater, East High School. I slowed down and pulled into the parking lot. He didn't question me. We sat there, staring out the windows at the building that we had so many memories of. We had left legacies behind us in our own ways at East High; Ryan, through his fantastic performances, and me, through my skill on the court, and as the captain who lead his team to victory in the last sixteen minutes of his final game. Now...

I wrapped an arm around Ryan, and he cuddled into me.

As a nostalgia-filled silence stretched on between us, the both of us thinking of our memories, both shared, and separate, associated with East High, Ryan spoke up. "In a way," he remarked, "I'm sort of grateful that you met Gabriella. Just think; if it hadn't been for the two of you defying the roles laid out for you, I'm not sure any of these events would ever have been set into motion."

I smiled fondly at him, nodding slightly in agreement with his words. "It was a great four years." My chest constricted. "I'm happy that I shared two of them with her." Gabriella was my first girlfriend. My first genuine romantic relationship.

But… I wasn't good enough for her. And, she had been unwilling to give me the support that I needed. It was because of that, that I was at last able to find all that I could ever need or want in a quiet, eccentric blond boy with an endless supply of hats. A boy who mesmerized me with his walk, his dancing that denounced the claim that, "white boys can't dance" by putting a nail in its coffin, his eyes that saw what most people over looked, and his breath-taking smile.

"But, you know what?" I prompted.

"What?" He looked up, meeting my eyes.

"That's the past. And, the person that I want to share my present, and hopefully my future with, is _you_."

"There isn't a single thing that I want more than that." Ryan stared at me, his eyes glowing lovingly. He hugged me tighter. "I agree emphatically with you."

I pressed a kiss to his temple and his throat. A sound somewhere between a purr and an exclamation of joy came out of him. A few seconds later, I was making a similar noise.

"The rest of our lives are still unwritten," Ryan said, his inflection softly inquiring, extending an offer to me.

My life was right there in my hands, just the way I wanted it to be. There was no Gabriella to tell me that she wasn't ready for adulthood. My dad and I had already come to terms with my independence. I wasn't going to attend his alma mater, U of A, and trade in my Wildcat moniker for a Red Hawk emblem, but I'd do everything in my power to make him proud of me anyway.

Yes, I was leaving my best friend behind again. Brothers, and siblings in general, I reminded myself with a glance at Ryan, will follow independent, diverging paths. That's part of growing up and stepping out into the world.

I'm sure all of our former classmates were bidding their parents goodbye just then, if they hadn't already. We had attended the same school for four years, and now we were all free-falling into our own separate futures. But, Ryan and I had each other to rely on, to catch one another, before one of us made contact with the cold hard ground.

I was ready, sure, confident. "I'll hand you the pen," I told Ryan, fiddling with the brim of his fedora.

He swatted my hands away, grinning in spite of himself. With a last kiss, we re-fastened our seat belts and I pulled my new car out of our high school's parking lot for the first and last time. We sped down the road, and I felt my adolescence falling away and flying out the window. I was emerging into manhood with Ryan at my side, and there wasn't a single person I'd rather have in his place.

**A/N: I own nothing recognizable. **I do however have claims of ownership over the song ,"Tomorrow Comes", and the plot, (even if it is practically canon now). Please leave a review, and let me know what you thought. 

I sincerely hope that you guys will stick around for the next installments. 


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I still have ownership of nothing recognizable. This story is still slash fiction not meant for the eyes of the close-minded. Now, onward!**

Chapter 8

We moved into a nice apartment. It wasn't a penthouse, or anything, but it was better than a roach infested motel. It had a kitchen, a tiny bathroom where we had to stand so close together, we were touching, while washing our faces or brushing our teeth. Not that either of us minded that very much. The apartment also had an average sized den, and a bedroom with a double bed.

Once we were settled in, Ryan gave Sharpay a call. It went straight to her voicemail. We were both upset, but we pushed it aside.

"I hope she's okay," Ryan murmured.

"She has Boi, and your parents to look after her," I reassured him, pleased to see him smile in amusement.

"Yeah. Not to mention that I'm _sure _she'll be partaking in plenty of sessions of retail therapy," he added, making me laugh.

We went to work, tidying the place up, happy that the former residents weren't slobs.

I wondered if that is what it's like for all young couples enhancing their first home they have together. After Ryan added his personal touches to the place, improving on it quite a bit, my stomach growled loudly, and both of us agreed that it was time to get something to eat.

The traffic in New York was just as crazy and chaotic as it's depicted to be in the movies. Horns blared, and people hurried across the streets as the lights flashed. A very negative feeling of recollection hit us, and I almost decided that another brush with death on an expedition wasn't worth it, until Ryan soothed my frayed nerves with his soft, sort of lilting inflection.

We got subs from Subway. I ordered for Ryan without needing to ask him what he wanted beforehand. He was a little surprised that I went to the trouble of memorizing what he liked, but I reassured him that it was no trouble at all. We ate there in the inside of the shop.

I found Ryan staring out the window, so I asked him, "What are you thinking about?"

He turned to me. "I'm thinking about how being here with you feels vaguely like a dream."

"It's real, Ry." I took hold of his hand. Recalling his words following the accident, I added, "I'm real, too. I'm not a figment of your imagination."

He smiled at me and I broke off a piece of the chocolate chip and M&M cookie I ordered, and handed it to him.

On the drive back to our apartment, he was restless.

"Isn't this exciting?" He inquired. "To be here, in this great, big, bustling city…! We're in the place where dreams can become reality, Troy!"

"And we're gonna make that happen, Ry," I promised him, his enthusiasm contagious.

We arrived in New York around one that afternoon, due to us crossing over time zones. By the time our apartment was habitable and aesthetically pleasing, thanks to Ryan, and we had eaten our lunch, it was after six. Both of us checked in with our respective parents to let them know we had arrived with no problems.

Ryan's parents were thrilled that their son, who always took a backseat to his sister, was actually out there, ready to take the world by storm, with the one that he loved at his side. The feeling was mutual on my part. Mr. and Mrs. Evans asked me to look after Ryan, and I gave them my solemn vow that I would.

My mom told me that she was going to wire me all of the money I had earned and saved up from my summer job at Lava Springs, and she reminded me to take care of Ryan, and myself. I didn't need a reminder to do that.

Upon re-entering our apartment, Ryan and I met our neighbors from across the hall. The meeting happened because they had apparently heard the sound of the key scraping against the lock as I fumbled while trying to get the door open. Behind Ryan and me, a door came open, and we heard a female voice declare, "I told you there were people living in that apartment."

Ryan and I looked to each other, before turning around to find out who spoke. That's when we first saw them. They were cuddled close together. Both of them had- probably- dyed black hair. From the first impression alone, I thought that they could have been siblings or lovers… or even both. They gave off an intimate vibe, but even Ry couldn't discern just _what _that vibe meant.

"Hey, neighbors!" The girl greeted us. Her forearms were covered in bangles of every color of the rainbow, and a stud pierced her right nostril.

"Erhm, hey…" Ryan and I returned, me waving awkwardly with one hand while I slipped the other around his shoulders.

"You two from out of town?" The guy asked, resting a hand on his maybe sister's hip. He had deep brown eyes, and alternating black and white paint on his fingernails.

"Oh yeah!" I answered.

"_Way _out of town," Ryan added helpfully.

"Out of state," I dropped in.

"That's cool," The guy said. His dark eyes looked us over, scrutinizing us.

"I'm Troy Bolton," I smiled and offered my freehand. "And this is Ryan Evans, my boyfriend."

"How do you do?" Ryan flashed his radiant smile.

The dark-haired pair exchanged a glance, as if silently communicating their judgment call on us. They must have determined we were okay, because they reached out, and, one-by-one, shook our hands.

"I'm Marceline Kenney, and this is Scot." Marceline- yeah, the name of the vampire girl from _Adventure Time_- gestured to herself, and to the much taller Scot. They didn't bother to hint at their relationship, and left it up for speculation. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Troy and Ryan," she said warmly. "We'll have to hang out, some time."

"Oh yeah," I attested. "Definitely."

"_Ciao_." Marceline waved, and she and Scot turned and walked back into their apartment. With a look at each other, Ryan and I did the same.

Once our door was closed, I spoke freely, marveling over our unique neighbors. "They were something, huh?"

"Yeah, they were something. How much are you willing to bet that they would be ecstatic to join us for a game of strip poker?" Ryan wasn't particularly weirded out, either, which I took as a sign that our neighbors were okay. The thought of Ryan nude, however, was _very_ appealing.

My eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail as I proposed, "How much are you willing to bet that I won't need a game to get you out of your clothes?" I raised an eyebrow, grinning cheekily.

Ryan smirked, his arms twining around my neck and his pelvis meeting mine. "You're very fortunate, Mr. Bolton, that your luck is as impeccable as your exterior."

We maneuvered to the bed, our lips crashing together. His tongue crept into my mouth and I let it slide over my teeth. I let out a happy sigh and squeezed his shapely ass, making him groan into the kiss.

"That tail of yours…" I said in a low voice. I paused to kiss at his throat while working at undoing his belt buckle. "It's still dangerous as ever."

"Oh, you know it." I felt his cool fingers on my bare, heated flesh. He dragged them up my back before coming to a stop at my shoulder blades, then waltzed his digits around to my front. I moaned as his fingertips brushed over the buds of my nipples.

Feeling pleased with myself, I slid the strip of leather out of the decorated piece of metal that read, "_Danser_".

Ryan's hands found their way to the six-pack I spent my entire sophomore year trying to achieve. I was one of the scrawniest guys on the team when Chad and I had joined their ranks that year. In order to get some respect from the senior players, who mocked me relentlessly for being the coach's son, I knew I had to bulk up, or risk getting jumped in the locker room. Luckily, my ability to remain calm under pressure, and quick strategizing skills, helped us win a game. The other guys, Chad, and my other close friends, Zeke Baylor and Jason Cross, tried to pat me on the back, and call me the team MVP. I was flattered, but I refused to take all of the credit.

Long story short, I'm proud of the definition on my abdomen, but I don't lift my shirt up and stare at it in the mirror, or flaunt it, or anything. Ryan's hands traced my abs, trailing lower and lower. I stifled a groan and pushed him back on to the bed, careful not to be too forceful. Quickly, I yanked his jeans off and discarded them. By the time I made my way back to the bed, he was sitting upright again. I lifted my arms up and he pulled my shirt up over my head, discarding it. We rejoined our lips. Once we were both out of our limiting articles of clothing, he laid back and I positioned myself at his entrance. "You're so _beautiful_, Ryan," I praised him, looking approvingly over his lean body, his flat stomach, the curves of his hips… He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My heart began swelling. "I love you," I told him. It must have been clear on my face, because he leaned up and kissed my cheek. Another muscle swelled as well.

"I love you, too," he said. He slid up, enveloping my cock in his hot, wonderful tightness.

"Aah, fuck!" I cried. I grabbed hold of his hips and brought him closer to me, so that I could thrust deeper and harder. Just the way he liked it.

Oh yeah, the apartment was most definitely ours now.

-Ordinary Day-

The next morning, we went our separate ways for school. While getting ready, Ryan nearly succumbed to a panic attack at the thought of running into Kelsi.

"Playing nice with her during the spring musical, last year, was difficult enough. The tension between us was as sharp as knives, Troy."

"She's had several months to toughen herself up and get over it, Ry." I busied myself with rubbing the small of his back, which helped to comfort him.

"Yes, but what if just _seeing _me again is enough to bring all of those negative feelings rushing back?" He asked, panic still present in his voice, even while he exhaled pleasurably through his nose.

"Hey, don't think like that. I'm sure the two of you will go back to being thick as thieves, and all three of us will be hanging out in no time."

He gave me a slightly strained smile. "You're such an optimist."

"It makes life that much easier." I replied with an encouraging smile.

The first day of college was, well, intimidating. I wasn't a leader, anymore. I didn't have any authority over any of these people. I was an awkward freshman in a crowd of unfamiliar faces again. Although I hated people mindlessly worshipping me for no apparent reason in high school, the thought of me no longer having the school at my fingertips still sort of turned my stomach. I sucked it up, though, and plunged into my new environment.

A couple of girls, probably freshman, like me, gave me interested stares, giggling and whispering to each other. It was probably a way to ease first day jitters. Otherwise, they were sort of out of luck.

I spotted one of the campus guides, and they helped me find my way to my homeroom. Once there, I had nothing to do except scope out my classmates and try to decide which ones were safe to approach. Hopefully, none of them had already made up their minds that they hated my guts.

I also wondered what Ryan was up to, and if he had made it to his homeroom. I hoped that some asshole hadn't knocked him over, or something. Right as I felt a pang of homesickness, the bell rang, and then a boy with his hair gelled up into spikes dropped into the seat in front of me, inquiring with a nod, "'Sup, man?"

"Nothin' really," I answered.

"This campus is huge, huh?" He inquired.

"Yeah, I was worried I was gonna get lost."

"No kiddin'."

He and I talked until the teacher, an older man with a receding hairline, entered the room. I learned that the spiky-haired boy's name was Jake Parker, and he also planned to try out for the basketball team. Before I could mention my interest in performing, and ask if Jake was into that, too, our first assignment of the school year was being handed out. Finding someone to talk to, or rather, someone talking to _me,_ right off the bat, really helped calm my nerves.

Everyone poured over their schedules, trying to figure out who they could walk to their next class with, or who they could follow. Jake and I traded schedules and found out that we had one other class together, aside from Calculus, and that was Biology. When the bell rang, he gave me a nod before murmuring under his breath about skipping on the homework to get in some, "WoW", time.

I was instantly reminded of Chad's carelessness when it comes to homework. Shaking my head, I took a moment to wonder what my bushy-haired second-in-command was up to. I slid a strap of my book bag over my shoulder and walked out of the Calculus classroom.

I had to ask the freshman guides several times for directions to my classes. They were all very polite and courteous, not at all the pushy, aggressive, and apathetic people New Yorkers are made out to be.

By the time the lunch period arrived, I had found a little group to hang with. For once, no one was calling me "Hoops", or "Hoopsman". When Gabriella and I broke up, she took her nickname for me, "Wildcat", one that secretly irked me because it constantly reminded me of my position as some sort of deity at East High, with her. Just like I was to Ryan, I was just _Troy _to these people; Jake, a pretty blonde named Charlotte, a lean dude in Aeropostale clothes named Marcus, and a dark-haired older boy with a silver dog chain hanging from his cargo pants, with the name of Ethan. I was as ordinary as any other student there, and it made me immensely happy.

-Good Morning Baltimore-

Ryan's first day at Juilliard didn't go as well. He encountered a lot of hoity-toity kids who held their noses in the air, and looked down on other people. Some had traveled all the way from Britain and France just to attend this school. One boy in particular, a tall, tanned blond who, in Ryan's words, introduced himself as, "'Gustav Lalonde', with a flawlessly polished and condescending French accent," had a group of girls following him and hanging on his every word.

"He was boasting that he's been in _seventeen _musical productions throughout his _extensive_ career, and can enhance the quality of a show with his mere presence."

"Oh what a bunch of bullshit!" I exclaimed.

"I know," Ryan rolled his eyes disdainfully. "Gustav Lalonde is a pompous, self-assuming asshole."

"Exactly. He's all talk, and you're gonna show him that it takes more than that to make it. To be a star."

A slight smile replaced his look of blatant irritation. "Are you sure that I can do that?"

"Positive, babe." I kissed him on the mouth before covering his cheek in feather-light kisses.

Chad called my cell phone while I was in the middle of kneading Ryan's lower back. Ry was moaning softly, his face burrowed in a pillow, while I worked out what felt like years of tension that not even his regular yoga sessions could get rid of. Having Sharpay for a sister, that's no wonder.

I am grateful for the yoga, though. It helps keep Ryan calm and clear-headed, and it also increases his flexibility to perfect his many types of performances. And, I have to admit; walking in on him doing a, Downward-Facing Dog or, an Extended Puppy Pose… well, let's just say it's the farthest thing on earth from unpleasant for me. I try to make sure it's as pleasant as possible for Ryan, as well.

Ryan moaned contentedly, and with more than a hint of arousal, into the pillow, and joy filled out the front of my jeans, pressing against his butt, as I sat, hovering over him. When my phone went off, I was playing with the waistband of Ryan's pants, teasing him by just brushing my fingertips against his skin and letting him arch into the contact for a second or two, and then pulling away. I pulled my phone out, annoyed at the interruption, only for my irritation to instantly vanish when I recognized Chad's name on the caller id.

I opened my phone up and exclaimed, "Hey, man!"

"Sup, Hoops?" Although I hate that nickname, I still felt a rush of warmth at hearing it again after so long. "How's the Big Apple treating you?"

"So far, so good." I looked to Ryan who had shifted so that he was facing me. "Well, aside from a couple of performing arts students with their heads in their asses."

Chad immediately picked up on my thoughts. "That Juilliard school's not all it's cracked up to be, huh? Well, tell Evans not to worry. He'll definitely make an impression on them."

"That's what I was telling him." I re-situated myself and gave Ryan's curious look a smile, now addressing him as well as Chad. "He'll win them over with his wicked choreography, his dazzling smile, or his hundreds of hats." I tapped on the brim of the pinstripe fedora Ryan was wearing.

Ryan smiled at me before re-adjusting the hat. He listened as Chad teased me for being, "so gay", and then filled me in on the details of his first day. Somehow, Chad had not only completely changed his stance on long-distance relationships, but he managed to talk the rational, strictly no nonsense Taylor McKessie, into attempting to have a long-distance relationship with him. How he managed to pull _that_ off, was something to be marveled. I couldn't stop happiness from bursting upon me at the news, though. "Well, buddy, it looks like you've got the cards in your favor," I praised him.

"I've got the entire deck, man," he embellished with pride. His first day at U of A had gone well. Jason and Zeke, our friends and former teammates, had relocated to New York, as well. Zeke had been accepted into Cornell University, and, even though Jason had no plans for college, apparently he couldn't resist tagging along. Chad, being Chad, jokingly wondered if there was some sort of secret, underground gay colony in New York that he didn't know about.

I laughed this off, assuring him that Zeke and Jason were just friends.

Chad, himself, had already attracted both new friends, and some admirers at his new school.

"That's great, man," I said, smiling at his good fortune.

Then, the mood of our conversation suddenly shifted. "I kinda wish you were here with me," he murmured.

I bit at my thumbnail, guilt, and a flurry of other emotions, making my heart sink. "I know," I replied.

That was the last time either of us brought that subject up. Our situations played out the way they did for a reason. That didn't mean we weren't friends anymore.

Chad and I talked for a good forty-five minutes, before I heard his mom's voice in the background, calling him to dinner.

"Just a minute mom!" He hollered back, forgetting to pull away from the mouthpiece, as usual. Good old Chad.

"Boy, who are you talking to?" Mrs. Danforth queried.

"Troy," Chad answered her.

There was a moment of silence and some muffled voices. I overheard something about "long-distance charges". I guess the phone switched hands then. Mrs. Danforth spoke into the device. "Hello, Troy."

"Hello, Mrs. Danforth." I rubbed at the back of my neck, sheepish from the paternal affection in her voice. She's like a second mother to me.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"That's wonderful! Now, you and that boyfriend of yours be careful out there. New York is a big, tough city."

"We will," I promised.

"And honey, if you need anything, you be sure to call and let me or Charlie know, okay?"

Charlie Danforth is Chad's father and a good friend of my dad's.

"Yeah, I will," I promised. There wasn't any sense in worrying anyone, but I was sure that I could handle myself and Ryan. That's what being an adult is about, right? Managing yourself and coming to the aid of others when they need you?

**A/N: As you can see, several OCs have been introduced. **This is unavoidable, as Troy and Ryan are now in a new environment with hardly anyone they know. I do, however, give my word that these OCs will NEVER steal the spotlight from Ryan and Troy. This is their story, after all. 

If you have the time, please review, and let me know what you thought! 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

As Ryan and I became more familiar with our surroundings, we found ourselves walking to and from places more frequently. On weekends, we'd jog through Central Park together, or rehearse routines for Drama. I was still an amateur, at best, and Ryan wasted no time showing me the ropes. We even went over some ballet techniques and stances, because he told me they would increase my strength, stamina, and flexibility. Considering how flexible Ryan is, it didn't take much convincing on my part.

Sure enough, when basketball tryouts came along, I wowed the coach, and even myself, with my effortless fake right and near perfect jump shot. When I came home to Ryan that day, I lifted him up and thanked him over and over as I nibbled on his neck.

At school, Jake and I were becoming fast friends. He had a younger brother, who was about fifteen, named Charley, and a little sister named Esther.

"We lived in a trailer park for 'bout five years when I was eight… after my dad left," Jake informed me as we went through the lunch line. "My mom got so sick of us livin' in that cramped shit hole, she went out and found herself a rich man so that me and Charley could be brought up right."

"That was brave of her," I said.

"Yeah. Luckily, our stepdad, Craig, he's not a bad guy. He's actually pretty cool. He got me a car for my fifteenth birthday, and he takes real good care of my mom and Esther."

"That's great." If anything ever happened between my parents and they decided that divorce was the only answer, I'd want my mom to find someone that could take care of her in all the ways that I couldn't.

The Parker family was from a small town in Kansas. Thanks to their mom's marriage, they were able to relocate to a- from what Jake said- pretty nice place in Manhattan.

Jake and I took our seats at the table with Charlotte, who looked at us and exclaimed, "Tyler Ross in my Trigonometry class just asked me out!"

"That's awesome," I told her with a smile, her giddiness contagious.

Jake remained silent. Charlotte and I looked at him curiously and after a second, he put in, "Yeah. That's great, Char."

Charlotte looked to me, her brows knitting together in bewilderment. "You could be a little more enthusiastic," she said to Jake.

Jake ran a hand through his gelled spikes. "Sorry," he said flatly.

I could only shrug. When I told Marcus and Ethan in the gym later that day about Jake's reaction, they at least had answers.

"He's jealous," Ethan replied without detaching his eyes from a copy of Anne Rice's_ Interview With A Vampire_.

"You can totally tell he wants some of that, man," Marcus added, dunking a ball from the three-point line. "Where's your head at?"

I laughed awkwardly. "I've never been good at figuring out who's attracted to who," I admitted. Ryan can pick up on stuff like that in a heartbeat. Every time we watch a movie together, even if he's never seen it before, he can predict which couples will end up together 98% of the time. Me? My predictions are right about 75% of the time.

"Maybe you need to get into touch with your feminine side," Ethan teased me with a smirk. I noticed he licked his thumb before turning the page, something I could have sworn people only did in movies. Ethan himself was sort of effeminate, or at the least, androgynous. He wore eyeliner, sometimes. I'm not able to talk, though. I've colored my hair, and used a spray tan. Chad and the guys would sometimes tease me for not only being a, "pretty boy", but a sentimental one.

"Does that really work?" Marcus inquired. "I know women are into men who ask them about their feelings and all that."

"Of course it does." Ethan returned his full attention to the book, signaling that answering our questions was of no importance to him.

-Progress-

Over dinner that night, I asked Ryan, "Did you get to talk to Kelsi?"

"We said, "hi" to each other," he answered, a corner of his mouth twitching unsurely. "She wasn't hostile."

"See! That's progress!" I placed a hand over his, ecstatic at the news.

Ryan sighed. "I wish I was as skilled at talking to people as you are. You have natural appeal, and radiate charisma."

"Trust me, Ry. People are easily drawn to you, too. It's true, you repel some people, but those people are assholes, and have no idea what they're missing out on. When you're confident, you have a natural magnetism."

That beautiful smile played on his lips. "Has anyone ever told you that you could write the book on winning someone's heart?" His eyelashes fluttered.

I remembered my horrible attempt at winning Chad a girlfriend in the eighth grade with cheesy poetry, and laughed.

Ryan leapt up out of his chair. "Come on, it's your turn to dry the dishes." He nodded toward the sink, rolling his sleeves up.

"Sure thing, _honey_." I got up out of my seat and brought the plates, joining him at the counter.

He handed me a dish after he finished scrubbing vigorously at it, and I toweled it dry. That was the routine. Every night, we'd switch roles of washer and dryer. For a boy who spent his entire life in the lap of luxury, Ryan never raised a complaint about doing chores, and if I thought he was working himself too hard, I was always willing to offer my assistance when it was needed, like moving the couch so he could vacuum behind it, or carrying in groceries.

When I found out I made the team, I immediately called Ryan up to share the news with him. He just barely stifled a squeal. "I'm so proud of you! I knew you could do it!"

Warmth rushed into me, along with gratitude. "You had a hand in it, too, babe. I don't think I would have stood a chance if it hadn't been for your help."

I just knew that on the other end, he was ducking his head sheepishly. "It couldn't have been me. You were holding your own against college guys two years ago without me."

"Yeah, well, that was-" I broke off as an idea came to me. "Hey, Ry?"

"Hmm?"

"You're free, right?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I was just about to go to lunch and finish _War and Peace_."

"Well, I think that can wait." I glanced at the clock in the entrance hall of the Berkeley campus, pleased to see that we had plenty of time to kill.

"Troy, what are you planning on doing?" In my mind, I could plainly see his playfully inquisitive expression; one eyebrow raised and one hand fixed on his hip bone.

"Stay right there in the parking lot and in about fifteen, you'll find out. Love you, Ry."

"I love you, too."

-No One -

I arrived at the campus of the performing arts school, and was sort of overwhelmed by what I saw. Nearly all of the kids emptying out of the building were dressed in designer clothes, some probably even from French boutiques, or whatever. This one girl in a sparkling white beret, red coat, black pencil skirt and black knee-highs, looked at me wearing the retro AC/DC t-shirt my dad gave me, and my faded blue jeans. She turned up her nose, sniffing haughtily. I probably looked like a bum to her.

At last, I found who I was looking for. Waving, I ran to Ryan. He stood out, even among the crowd of primped up divas, in his combat boots, ass-hugging skinny jeans, blue dress shirt and matching fedora.

"Hey, babe," I greeted him.

"Hello, toothsome." He came to me and moved in close, his lean arms wrapping around my torso.

A jolt of shock shot through me as I remembered where we were; in front of thousands of people, several of them looking at us as they passed. I peered warily over Ry's head. "Are you sure it's all right for us to be public here?" I whispered.

"Of course," he assured me. "The performing arts have always been non-discriminatory."

"Good." I hugged him tightly. The four and a half hours that had passed since I last saw him, felt like they had dragged on far too long.

We slowly pulled apart, his hand sliding into mine.

"So, what brings you to this den of avarice?" Ryan queried. We navigated through the parking lot.

I let out a sort of laugh at the title. Some of those people must have been _real _assholes for Ryan to give the school that they attended such a title. I'd have to talk to him and see what was up. "I'm taking you to lunch. And because today is Friday, I figure that afterwards, we can what Scot and Marceline are up to, and invite them over."

"That sounds like a fantastic plan to me," Ryan said with a smile. We stepped over the boundary between the asphalt and the grass, and left the Juilliard campus behind us. As we walked along, I asked Ryan, "How was your day?"

"Fine," he replied tersely.

"The people there are still snobby douchebags, huh?"

"Well, not all of them. But, a fraction of the populace could make Mel Gibson look approachable."

I snorted with laughter.

"What?" He asked, an innocent smile playing on his face.

"Nothing." I draped an arm around his waist. "Go on."

"They… they just have really cold demeanors. They believe themselves to be destined for fame, and are willing to take down anyone who could get in the way of achieving that. I hope that you don't have to deal with that sort of attitude at Berkeley."

"No way!" I assured him. "The theater kids there are cool. They're dedicated, and a bit on the nerdy side."

"Like me?" Ryan perked up, smiling brightly, with a playful glimmer in his eyes.

"No." I grinned. "_You're _extremely dedicated, and _really _nerdy, and it's _totally _hot."

He laughed as I ran my hand over his butt. We noticed some older guy staring, his brows raised. Both Ryan and I let out a laugh at the dude's look of confusion and continued on our way.

- Awkward -

We ate pizza at Lombardi's Pizzeria then returned to the apartment. I knocked on Scot and Marceline's door. It came open to reveal Marceline standing there in a low-cut black tank top.

"Oh, hello, Troy," she greeted me.

"Er… hi," I returned. "Ryan and I were wondering if you and Scot wanted to hang out tonight."

"Sure," she replied.

"Awesome! So, how does eight o' clock sound?"

"Eight is fine." She shifted her weight. "It will give Scot all the time he needs in the bathroom."

I laughed awkwardly at the comment. "Great. So, we'll see you later."

"Yes."

She gave me a half-smile. I glanced down at my feet, all too aware of how awkward this all was.

Finally, I walked back into mine and Ryan's apartment. I heard Marceline and Scot's door click shut behind me. Ryan was humming to himself, probably unaware that he was doing it, as he scrawled something on a piece of paper.

"Marceline said that she and Scot will be over at eight," I announced.

He looked up from the paper at me. "Great!" he exclaimed, beaming.

"What's that you're working on?" I asked.

Ryan blushed. "N-Nothing special. It's just something for school."

"Is it a report, or something?"

"No."

I told myself I'd ask him for the details later. "Is it important?"

"It's not anything major."

"Do you think you could take a few minutes from it to take a shower with me?" I asked, my voice soft. There was no way I was going to pressure him.

He didn't take the time to think it over. He set aside his paper and stood up, crossing to me. "Yeah, I think I could do that."

We moved into the tiny bathroom, and quickly stripped before climbing into the shower. He washed my back, his slender fingers scraping lightly over my muscles. His touch sent warmth down, right between my legs. As I turned into the spray to rinse the suds off, I pulled him into me and covered his neck in nips and kisses. When we finished, "cleaning", each other up, we stumbled out of the shower, lightheaded, but extremely happy.

- We Are Young -

At 8:01, a knock announced Marceline and Scot. I made to get the door and save Ryan the trouble, but he got there first, and pulled it open.

The pair looked at us. "Hello, boys," Marceline said.

"Hey," Scot added.

"Hi," Ryan and I returned simultaneously.

Ryan extended his arm in an inviting gesture. "Come in."

They stepped into the den. Marceline gazed appreciatively upon the interior; the luxury curtains that replaced the broken blinds, the furniture arranged so that the feng shui of the room would be on-kilter, the color-coordinated pillows Ryan had bought for the couch and recliner. "This is a nice pace you've got here."

"That's all thanks to Ryan," I said, nodding in my blond boyfriend's direction. "He knows all about matching colors and designs and motifs and stuff. I just helped him move the furniture."

Pink tinted Ryan's cheeks at the compliment.

"I would have guessed as much," Scot remarked.

"Huh?" I looked toward him, baffled.

Marceline smirked, like she was repressing a giggle. "He means, no offense Troy, but it's pretty obvious who has the knowledge of style in your relationship."

It was my turn to flush then. Ryan rubbed my shoulder consolingly. Of course it's obvious. Our clothing choices alone give that away… but, I don't think my personal style is _awful_, or anything. Ryan takes all of my suggestions into consideration, like buying bean bag chairs, which I've always wanted since I was a kid, and how to angle the couch. His decor combines the best of both of us, my less showy, more simplistic style, with his vibrant, attention-grabbing one. Pastels were paired with darker colors in a nice, pleasant way.

The four of us moved over to the furniture and took seats; Ryan and me on the couch, Marceline in a recliner and Scot on a red bean bag chair. We made small talk, such as inquiring about how school was going, and majors and all that.

Marceline, Ry and I learned, was a vegan. She's a political activist protesting for animal rights, romantic equality, feminism, and the rights of the domestically abused, even men. She was studying Politics and Law with a side of Psychology.

Scot, was a painter. Marceline told us he could do anything from still-life, like fruit bowls, to painting people almost exactly as they look, to extreme abstract.

Ryan and I both expressed interest in wanting to see his work some time. Again, our majors weren't much of a surprise to them.

Around eight forty-five, Ryan stretched out his legs and glanced at the clock in surprise. He seemed to deliver a mental slap to himself for what he later told me was a "lack of hospitality", and then straightened himself out, asking, "Would anyone like a drink?"

There was a unanimous reply of confirmation, and we all followed him into the kitchen where we raided the alcohol supply. Scot and I were content with Tequila. Ry pulled out the blender, and began mixing drinks for Marceline and himself. He explained his skill with; "When Shar had her ,"Girls' Nights", who do you think was charged with supplying the drinks?"

He also joked to me that he could become a bartender if being a star fell through. I nudged him, the look in my eyes saying everything. As the night went on, we all became progressively drunker. Someone- I think it might have been me- proposed we play Twister.

When we first moved in, I found a copy of the game in the tiny closet set in the far wall of the living room. The previous tenants, or maybe even the ones before them, had left it behind. Ryan had expressed disgust, fretting about how, "filthy", it was and, "You don't know who had this last, what they touched before playing this game, and what they did with the game."

To pacify him, I had sprayed the game down with antibacterial spray. When I smugly asked him if he was happy with my response, he shook his head, obviously amused, and then pulled me into a kiss with his teeth gnashing carefully against my lips.

It made me feel like I was, "_The Man_".

Marceline elected herself spinner, so that left me, Scot, and Ryan the monumental task of trying to stretch and contort our bodies to reach the colored spots.

Ryan walked over to switch on the stereo, proclaiming delightedly, "I've gotta set the _mood_!"

I grinned, applauding him. That one Ke$ha song where she wakes up "feeling like P. Diddy" until she gets shut down by the police, came on. I figured Ryan must have been pretty _smashed_, because he hates Ke$ha. The sound of her voice makes him cringe, and he wasn't cringing, so….

I was pumped, seriously pumped. I went out first and put my right foot on blue.

"Great job!" Ryan called in a whisper, flashing me the thumbs up. I gave him a thumb up too.

Scot's turn came, and he could hold his liquor better, because he was completely stoic and only stumbled a little. When Ryan stepped up to the mat, he happily touched his left hand on a red circle, and held the pose.

The game got more intense, more colors being called out like rapid-fire from Marceline, and the three of us ended up with our bodies entangled. I think I fell first, laughing all the way. My fall made Scot buckle and he fell as well. Right on top of me. That left Ryan perching on his toes and fingertips.

"Ryan's the winner!" Marceline called.

"I won?" Ry looked up in surprise, then jumped to his feet, cheering. "I won! I'm the winner!"

Scot rolled off of me and I sat up enough to grab Ryan around the waist and pull him down to me. I attacked his lips in congratulations.

The next song, Lady Gaga's, "I Like It Rough", came on. Ryan weaved his way around, thrusting his pelvis. I sneaked up on him and grabbed him, pulling him into me. We both let out moans as our pelvises met. Yes. Oh, hell yes. It was one of the most incredible feelings ever. I nipped at his neck, licking at his soft, luscious skin. It was awesome. _So freaking _awesome. Marceline and Scot were dancing too, not quite full on grinding, but still pretty intimately. Ryan took turns dancing with both of them, trying to see if anyone could match his skills. The buzz died down, though, and we retired to the couch.

Marceline pulled out a pack of Marlboro's cigarettes, removed one and lit it up. Ryan and I exchanged an odd look. It wasn't that we hadn't ever seen or expected to run into smoking. Kids back home did it all the time, and weren't exactly shy about it. Some did a lot worse than tobacco. It was just, unexpected, I guess.

"Would you guys like one?" She asked.

"No thanks,"I replied, pasting on an awkward smile.

"No, thank you," Ryan declined. _"I still need my lungs," _his expression said.

Silently, she offered one to Scot, and he took it. Ryan and I sat there in silence for several seconds, trying not to stare at them as they took drags on their cigarettes.

Finally, Ryan broke the silence. "Have you guys always lived in New York?"

"Me, yes," Marceline answered. "I used to live in Manhattan with my parents, but I moved out here to NYC for my job last year."

"I'm from Delaware," Scot put in. "I transferred to a high school in Manhattan."

"Where we met," Marceline added.

"You guys moved out here together?" I asked, kneading the legs of my jeans. Ryan tells me that I get paranoid when I'm sobering up. I throw around anxious looks, bite my thumbnail, rub the back of my neck… do all of my nervous ticks.

"Yes," they answered in unison.

"What about you two?" Marceline inquired, pulling out an ashtray that she had brought with her. I guess that she and Scot had already gathered that Ryan and I aren't into that stuff. "We already know that you're from, "_way _out of town"."

Ryan blushed as she quoted him.

"We're from Albuquerque, New Mexico," I said.

"This your first time in a big city?" Scot asked, tipping the cigarette so ashes fell into the tray.

"Yeah," I replied at the same time Ryan said, "No."

"My parents and I never really did any traveling outside of school or sports related functions, or recreational activities, like vacations and stuff," I explained.

"My family does a lot of traveling," Ryan elaborated on his response. "Especially my parents. I've been around, but this is my first time here." A smile tugged at his mouth and that sparkle was back in his eyes.

_This is his dream_, I thought to myself. _He's always wanted this, and I'll do anything in my power to help him see this through to the end. _I caught his eye and he directed the smile at me. I returned it, hoping that he could see the resolution in my eyes.

**A/N: ** If you can, leave a review and let me know what you think! Next chapter, the trouble starts. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The crowd roared with enthusiasm overhead. Energy filled the locker rooms. It was my first game as a New York Berkeley Knight, and I was more than ready to prove myself.

It was odd, being in a blue and silver uniform, instead of red and white. My jersey number wasn't fourteen, anymore, it was twenty-three, and of course, I wasn't the captain, but I was hyped nevertheless. Jake stood beside me, his light-hearted gaze serious. Nearby, Marcus shifted his weight.

The team captain, Cody Westmore, gave us the signal to go ahead, and the team charged forward, whooping and hollering. We ran up the stairs and across the gymnasium floor. As I turned, I could see Ryan's hatted head and blue and white dress shirt and dress pants as he earnestly waved to me. I returned the wave, grinning at the burst of energy and confidence his presence gave me.

"D' ya see Charlotte anywhere?" Jake asked me.

I quickly searched for the blonde girl, and found her sitting two rows down and several seats over from where Ryan was. "She's right there." I did my best to indicate her without pointing.

Jake grinned, his face lighting up. Oh, he had it _bad. _

The game was on. We sprinted across the court. Passes were made, shots were fired. The ball was passed to me and I ran it down the court, only to be blocked by a guy who was easily five times my size. I faked right and passed the ball to Jake, who took off with it. He fired from the two point line and made the first score of the game. After that, the other team seized control of the ball, and it was on. During the game, I found myself disagreeing with several of Cody's calls. In particular, the ones that resulted in my teammates and me getting smacked down onto the polished wood floor by our much bigger and brawnier opponents.

When half-time rolled around, the other team, the Eagles, had a six-point lead.

"Alright," Cody said, his face reddening with frustration, "I want Jeffers and Crowley to-"

I spoke up, ready to offer a suggestion. "Maybe, we could-"

"Hey!" Cody retorted, baring his teeth. "Bolton, don't try to tell me how to run this team!" His brown eyes narrowed as he gave me a steely glare.

"Sorry," I said. I'll admit, I was out of line, but I wasn't trying to undermine him, or anything. When I was captain, I always took my teammates' thoughts into consideration. That's what being on a team is all about. Granted, that Jimmie Zara kid, my sophomore stalker who took pictures of my bedroom because he wanted to do his "the same way", was annoying as hell, and we often benched him, but I made sure to include him as well, and even entrusted him with making the winning basket of my last game as a Wildcat.

"Bites, man," Jake observed, patting my shoulder, then wincing at the pain it caused him.

I was irked, but did my best not to show it.

We were out on the court again with a new strategy from Cody. Our team had the ball.

Chris Jeffers, our team's tallest member at 6'1, took up a position at the end of the court, waiting for the ball to make its way to him.

Victor Rodriguez, Cody's second-in-command, was defending our basket. I watched a couple of my teammates get slammed down and my feet itched with anger and anticipation. The other team wasn't going to win playing like that. No way in hell.

I searched the bleachers for Ryan, and once I spotted him, I felt a burst of confidence. _We can do this_, I told myself.

The cheerleaders encouraged us from the sidelines, doing their moves that Ryan refuses to call, "choreography" As they rooted for the Knights, I found it odd that last year, I wanted nothing more than for a team with that mascot to lose, and now, their winning was everything.

From across the court, I could see Jake look up to the bleachers as I had done. I followed his gaze and felt my heart lurch at seeing Charlotte sitting with an ebony-haired guy; Tyler Ross, her new boyfriend. _Oh no_! I groaned internally. Jake caved, his body slumping at the same moment a pass was aimed at him.

"Parker!" I heard Cody roar. "Damn it!"

I clenched my fists, repressing the urge to punch our captain.

Luckily, Marcus saved the ball. He made to dribble it down the court, only to be blocked by the same huge guy who had intercepted me in the first half. Fortunately, where this guy had size as his advantage, Marcus had speed. He quickly feinted, then maneuvered around the big guy. We made eye contact for an instant and while all eyes were on him , I discreetly worked my way to the three point line. The clock was racing. Time was running out.

As the seconds ticked off, my heart thudded. Marcus passed the ball to me and I fired it. _Break the tie… break the tie! _The ball bounced off the backboard and swiveled on the rim of the net. My breath hitched in my throat. It was like time had slowed down. I watched as the ball teetered for what seemed like forever, and then, finally, dropped in.

The gym erupted in cheers. My teammates and the cheerleaders gathered around me, chanting my name: "Bolton! Bolton!" We did it! We won! Ryan and I caught each other's eyes, and his smile made me feel like I was the king of the world.

- Good Life -

"At East High, we had these, 'lucky socks', that we always wore at every game," I told Ryan. We were back in our apartment, and I was dripping wet from just stepping out of the shower. As I spoke, I was slipping on a pair of red EHS Wildcat sweats. "To keep their luckiness intact, we never washed them."

"Ew!" Ryan crinkled his nose. "Troy, that's _disgusting_!"

I laughed. "Hey, we showered, though. I'd hate going around smelling rank as much as anyone. Anyway," I went on, "you remember that Jimmie kid? 'Rocketman'?"

"Your obsessive fanboy?" Ryan's expression was now dry amusement.

"Yeah, well he and his friend, Donny Deon, wanted mine and Chad's lockers, so before we graduated, Chad and I left them our locker combinations. And to fully pass the torch, we also left them an extra special gift." I smirked.

"Oh Troy, you didn't."

"Oh yes we did."

Ryan shook his head, chuckling. "You really had it out for that kid?"

"_Not _exactly. But he did freak me out. Besides, I'm sure he _loves _those socks. They were personal items."

"You…" Ryan pushed me back onto the bed. I pulled him down with me, laughing as he fell on top of me, his body warm against my naked chest. "Troy!" He protested. "You're all wet!"

I just grinned cheekily, knowing that he wouldn't try to move.

He didn't. "You're too much, you know that?"

I nuzzled into his neck. "I'm just right for you, though, right?"

"You're all that I could have asked for and more." He smiled contentedly, his fingers, limber from years of piano playing, stroking over my chest. We sat in quiet for a couple seconds, until he spoke up. "Your captain seems to be in need of some anger management."

"I don't know what the hell his deal is." My voice hardened and I felt my blood heat up. "He went off on me for trying to make a suggestion, because he thought I was trying to-"

"Undermine him?" Ryan prompted softly.

"Yeah. And then he yelled at Jake for being distracted by Charlotte and her new boyfriend Tyler."

Ryan's expression was pensive. "It sounds like he only wants power and control and none of the responsibilities. Do you think he's the captain who would, instead of going down with his ship, steal the lifeboat and then blame an officer for the ship sinking?"

That thought made my skin prickle. "I hope not."

"Either way, try not to dwell on it. You won tonight, because you and your teammates were being the best you can be, despite your commander in chief being an ass."

I smiled. His advice made me feel a lot better. "Thanks, babe."

"Don't mention it."

I nuzzled my nose against his, then moved to his mouth. While my lips were preoccupied with covering his, I began unbuttoning Ryan's dress shirt. He moaned softly into my mouth. I pulled away, licking over his lips as I did so. I looked him over, smiling appreciatively at the creamy skin I exposed. "Mm… you look so hot in everything you wear."

""Everything"?" He gave me a bemused smile, his brow arcing in that all-too-sexy way.

"_Everything_."

Moving off of me, he slid my sweat pants off. Returning to me, he brushed his fingertips against the skin under the waistband of my boxers, making me moan before working the article of clothing down my thighs. I smiled dopily, my eyes rolling at the rush of air meeting my cock. "Well," Ry said, studying me with his mouth curled up into a smirk, "I can't decide if I prefer you clothed or _au natural_."

-We Can-

_I'm beautiful in my way_

_ 'Cause God makes no mistakes_

_ I'm on the right track_

_ Baby, I was born this way _Ryan's voice filled the apartment.

It was a welcome sound. He had been psyched out the past week and it seemed that my team's victory was a pick-me-up for him.

"Hey," I greeted him as he entered the bedroom where I was reading his copy of "Homunculus". After he told me that it featured a man giving birth, a monster created from blood and urine raping a burly housekeeper named Olga, and a vision of a man breast-feeding a pig, I _totally _had to check it out and see if it was as insane as Ry remembered.

I wasn't disappointed.

"Hey," he returned, beaming. As he recognized the book, he let out a laugh and shook his head. "That book will violate your sanity in the worst way possible. Reading it is hazardous."

"You took the risk," I pointed out as I leapt to my feet.

"I had little to lose. My mind's already been fucked so many times."

"That does explain a lot." I nudged his shoulder gently with mine.

"So, I wanted to ask you a favor." He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.

"Whatever you want." I promised.

"I know it's a Saturday, but I was wondering if you'd come with me to Juilliard, and help me work on something."

"Of course." We walked out of the bedroom to the closet where we hung our jackets. "What is it?"

"Well, you know that paper I was working on before Scot and Marceline came over?"

"Yeah?"

-Everything's Alright-

He lead me through the enormous school, past portraits of alumni and past graduates who were famous, I guess. I stared in awe at the trophies proudly filling the display cases.

At last, we entered the auditorium. It was, just as I expected, huge and lavishly decorated. The sound of our footfalls decreased and I could make out someone turning out an upbeat melody on a piano. Ry and I made our way down the aisle and I felt a pang of recognition at the sight of a petite, curly-haired brunette girl sitting at the grand piano onstage, glasses perched on the end of her nose.

I looked to Ryan for confirmation and he nodded.

"Kelsi?" I called out.

The girl stopped playing and turned out to us, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Troy? Oh my _gosh_!" She leaped off of the piano stool at the same time I leaped onto the stage. We took each other into a hug.

"I don't believe… what are you doing here?" She peered up into my eyes. "I thought you were at Berkeley in California."

I took a step back. "I'm attending Berkeley, alright. But, not in California."

She searched my face with her blue green eyes, her brows furrowing. "Something happened… between you and Gabriella," she assessed finally.

"Yeah," I said flatly, the feelings of hurt that were associated with Gabriella's name surging into my heart for a brief moment.

"She's at Stanford in California and you're here."

"Yep."

She glanced down at Ryan, who stood on the floor in front of the stage. "With Ryan…?"

I let out a nervous laugh and slid off of the stage to join Ryan. "Actually, Kels, Ry's the reason I'm here." My arm slid around my slender boyfriend's shoulders, drawing him into me.

"You two are going out," Kelsi stated.

"Yes," we replied simultaneously.

Her eyes stretched wide and she looked between us in utter bewilderment. Kelsi had been one of the most avid supporters of mine and Gabriella's relationship. She dedicated several songs to us, and was upset whenever Gabriella and I parted ways. This news was probably as stunning and devastating to her as it would have been to anyone else who viewed us as "the perfect couple" in high school.

"You didn't tell me!" Kelsi said to Ryan.

"It's not like I wanted to rub it in, or anything," he said sheepishly.

"This is _huge_," she remarked.

"Well, yeah. I do have the best boyfriend in the world." I squeezed Ryan's shoulder, grinning.

"_You_, do?" Ryan inquired, his voice high with mock surprise. "Because I'm pretty sure that I have the best knight in the world at my side." He leaned into me.

I laughed softly, nuzzling his cheek, my heart warmed by his comment. There was a movement of feet on the stage and Ry's spine stiffened, which signaled me to withdraw from him. I ran the hand that had been caressing his shoulder through my hair.

"So, uh, what are you two doing here?" Kelsi inquired, collecting herself.

"We came to work on my project." Ryan stepped forward.

"The composition?"

"Yeah. And," Ryan looked at his feet, "I want to know if you'll help." He gave her a more subdued version of that look that I can't refuse even if I try. "You are one of the best pianists I know," he added with a smile.

"Alright." Kelsi nodded, her cheeks flushing. Ryan handed over the sheaf of paper he had brought with us. "But," Kelsi drew in a breath, recovering from the shock, "_both _of you owe me an explanation."

"Oh, of course!" Ryan and I exclaimed.

The doors at the back of the auditorium opened, and four girls and four boys entered. "Ryan!" One girl with straight, flowing silvery blonde hair cried. She ran down the aisle to meet my boyfriend.

"Celeste!" Ryan exclaimed. He took her hands and the two of them air-kissed. I felt my face flush. "Is everyone here?" He pulled away to analyze the entering group.

Celeste blinked her green eyes and smiled. "_Oui_," she responded. "We're all here."

Glancing up, Ryan exclaimed, "Luc!"

The other guy, Luc, who had a tousled hairstyle similar to the ones worn by emo kids, and a scarf tied around his neck, gave Ryan a smile and a wave and then went back to organizing the group he arrived with into two straight lines. He then came over and took Celeste's arm and everyone else paired off; two heterosexual pairs and two homosexual, one consisting of two girls, another of two guys.

Ryan offered me a hand and I took it. He guided me up the stairs to center stage. When we reached it, he turned and announced to the inquisitive stares we were getting, "Everyone, this is Troy." He shot a bashful look at his feet before continuing. "He's my partner."

"Mm," Luc remarked with a smooth accent,"he's rather the pick of the pack."

I felt my cheeks heating up again.

"_Il est tre beau_, Ryan," Celeste appraised me.

The heat in my face intensified, even though I'm not quite sure what she said. I'm not fluent in French.

"I know," Ryan replied to Celeste, smiling affectionately.

"Ready when you are, Ryan," Kelsi said from the piano.

"Alright."

It suddenly hit me that I was the only one in the room who had next to no idea of what his role in this routine was. My eyes widened, and I looked around in confusion.

Ryan picked up on my bewilderment. He smiled encouragingly and said softly, "Follow my lead. You'll be fine." Once I nodded, he turned out to Kelsi and gave her a nod, cuing her to begin. After the first chords sounded, peppy, with a hint of longing, Ryan led a count-off, stepping in time to the beat. I waited for him to give me my signal. His voice filled the room. "And 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, go!"

_The stars up above_

_ And the moon in the sky_

_ Are just a glimmer in _

_ The corner of my eye_

I watched in awe as, with a thrust of hips, Ry dropped into a one-handed cartwheel, ending up in front of me when he was back on his feet.

_Compared to the glow_

_ That you radiate_, Ry held his hands out in front of him and framed my face. The other pairs, his background dancers, imitated him without the impressive cartwheel.

_Tonight_, he took my hand and kicked out his leg before moving into me and wrapping his arms around my neck.

_I've finally got you alone_

_ And, baby I can't wait_

Behind us, the person in each pair that had taken up the masculine role, holding their partner by the hands, jumped up, then, landing with their legs planted, slid their partner between their legs, then pulled them back upright.

Ryan's pelvis met mine. I barely withheld a grunt.

_Uh, you're luminescent_, he growled softly, appreciatively.

_And, yeah_, in a fluid movement, he grabbed my hand, then turning out, pulled me center while singing joyously; _We're gonna_

We arrived at center stage.

_Scintillate, _he sang, Luc, Celeste and the others providing the background vocals.

_We'll be so great_

_ Together, we'll eclipse the sun_

He got behind me and nudged my legs apart with his foot, then gestured toward the overhead lights, signaling me to do the same with his eyes.

_In the dark _On "dark", he returned to me, and wrapped an arm around me. I realized what he wanted, and twirled both of us.

_Of the night _Ry pulled away, a smile on his face. Around us, I could see that the other dancers had also executed the twirl. His fingers linked with mine, Ry dropped down to his knees, then effortlessly popped back upright.

_We two will become one_

He weaved around me, hips shaking rhythmically as he dramatically gesticulated his words. _The passion of my soul_

_ Lies, _he halted, then turned back to me

_Where you lay tonight_

He kicked his leg up and twirled like a ballerina with all of the badass-ness of Patrick Swayze in "Dirty Dancing", my mom's favorite movie. He crossed back to me and took hold of my hand, indicating that both of us spread our arms wide.

_So let's_

_ Scintillate_

_ And blind the world_

He drew into me and took my other hand. We were standing so close together, our chests touched.

_So they'll finally see_

Our noses brushed together and following his lead, I looked up in the direction of the stage lights.

_The light_

We held the pose until Kelsi played out the final chords. Behind Ryan and me, the background dancers struck a pose with their hands up and fingers spread wide; "jazz hands". When the last note died off, Ryan asked me, "Well, what do you think?"

I looked around me at Celeste, Luc and the other dancers, who had sheens of sweat on their foreheads and faces. I looked back to Ryan, who was panting lightly, even though his chest was heaving. Where could I even begin? _Amazing, awesome, spectacular, freaking _incredible!, all came to mind. I imagined all of them under the glow of the spotlight and how they would really scintillate or shine. Giving Ryan a smile, I relayed, "I'd give you guys all A plus, plus, _pluses_!"

Ryan's eyes sparkled fiercely. He pumped his fist triumphantly before announcing, "_Fantastic _rehearsal, everyone! That's a wrap. Now get out of here and enjoy the rest of your Saturday!"

With smiles, everyone departed until it was just me, Ryan and Kelsi. Ry and I got off the stage and met Kelsi on the floor in the house where she stood with her usual stack of books and papers. "Ryan…" she began, "that was absolutely…" She paused to look for the right word. Her expression was similar to the kid that got that one special gift they never expected they would get on Christmas morning. "Phenomenal!"

"Thank you."

I gave Ryan's hand a squeeze to let him know that I agreed with Kelsi one hundred ten percent.

He beamed brilliantly. He deserved to feel good about himself after single-handedly writing and choreographing such an amazing piece.

"Kelsi, how has Juilliard been for you so far?" I prompted.

"Fine. I get ignored for the most part, so no one ever messes with me." Despite the lack of sadness in her voice, that still didn't sit right with me.

"Well, you know, you can always come hang with us," I offered. "We've got an apartment in New York City. And these awesome neighbors!"

"Yeah, absolutely!" Ryan chimed in. "How does that sound?"

"That does sound great," Kelsi began, "but I still have all of this music to work on, not to mention-"

I cut her off. "Ryan and I will kidnap you before we'll let that nasty work hold you hostage."

She averted her gaze, a rosy tint coloring her cheeks. A sheepish smile of amusement played on her lips. "Oh, alright."

Ryan gave her a friendly nudge and I laid a hand on her shoulder. She laughed softly, her cheeks still flushed. I exchanged a glance with Ryan and I could tell that we both knew that everything was okay again.

**A/N: Celeste is sort of based off of the character with the same name in the second "Glee" novel. Everyone else is an original character. Ryan's song, "Scintillate", is also an original work of mine. **

**I'm sure, however, that everyone already knows that I have absolutely NO claims on anything recognizable. That said, everything has gone really well for Troy and Ryan up to now. However, life is always unpredictable. What will be on the table for the lovebirds next chapter? **

**I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this work and others of mine up to now. You guys really motivate me and appreciate me and my gratitude is beyond measure. Seriously, thank you all so much. I'm not sure I would still be writing so passionately if it wasn't for my readers. **


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The end of November was fast-approaching. As Christmas got closer, I was absolutely determined to get Ryan the perfect gift. He deserved it, after everything he had done for me. I wanted to give him something special. Something from my heart. And, not my "Dick In A Box", either, you sickos. I had seen him eye-balling various hats to add to his collection, but he'd always wind up shaking his head and buying me a thirty dollar t-shirt instead.

Charlotte was the only one of our group at Berkeley who saw how distracted I was by this. She pulled me aside in the hallway and asked, "Troy, you're taken, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"Well, she's a lucky girl, whoever she is."

"Actually," I rubbed at the back of my neck, ""she's" a _he_."

"_Really_? Troy, I never would have thought! How adorable!" She exclaimed. I knew I wasn't wrong to tell her.

"Uh, thanks," I replied. "And for the record, Char, _I'm _the lucky one."

"Well aren't you just the sweetest thing!" Her eyes glowed as she flung her arms around me in a brief embrace. I'm eternally grateful that Jake wasn't there to see that. I prefer keeping my dick. I still kind of need it. That, and I'd hate to upset him with a stupid misunderstanding. "So, you want to get him the perfect present, right?" Charlotte asked. Girls are so intuitive sometimes, it's almost freaky.

"Right." I filled her in on Ry's interests, fashion, theater, reading.

She tapped her chin in thought. "Why don't you get him a gift card? That way, the two of you can go shopping together!"

"That's a great idea!" A burst of excitement filled me. "Thanks a ton, Char!" The excitement quickly fizzled out as another thought of importance hit me. I could feel the smile disappear from my face.

Charlotte's smile also disappeared as she caught on. "You don't want anyone else to know."

My brows knitted together in frustration. "Being an, "out", athlete is risky. Ryan doesn't want me taking any risks that could get me hurt." Did I want to proclaim for the world to hear that I had the best boyfriend ever? Yeah. But I had no idea how the rest of the guys on the team would handle that knowledge. Nothing would ever be the same, showering, playing… they'd never look at me the same way again.

-Hard Knock Life-

I walked down the hall with Jake next to me, informing me of his WoW accomplishments. Further down, I could make out a group of people and the sound of mocking laughter.

"Hold up, Jake." I held out a hand, signaling for him to stop while I went on ahead.

"Wha-?" He froze for a second and then followed me.

A boy in skin tight jeans and a Lady Gaga t-shirt was being pressed into a locker by a much bigger boy, a blond with a familiar douchey cowlick. Cody Westmore.

I raced over to them. "What's going on?!" I demanded.

"We're helping this _faggot _with his books," Cody replied. With a swipe of his hand, he easily knocked the smaller boy's books right out of his grasp. He let out a snide laugh.

"_Si_," Victor Rodriguez chimed in, "all is _bueno_, eh, _maricón_?" He slapped the poor boy on the shoulder almost hard enough to knock him over.

Jake went rigid beside me. I didn't have time to figure out why. Cody turned to us, his brown eyes gleaming. "Hey, Bolton, Parker, why don't you give us a hand?" He edged in closer to his victim, the boy flinching away like he was just waiting to feel a punch or slap stinging on his face.

I pictured Ryan in the boy in the Gaga shirt's place, his blue eyes wide with terror, and something inside of me began boiling. "NO!" I barked, clenching my fists to keep from punching Cody Westmore in the face.

"Aw, what do you have a _crush _on this faggot, Bolton?" Cody gave me a rough shove, an ugly sneer creeping across his mildly attractive features.

I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to shove him back. "No," I answered him, leveling my voice. That poor boy he was harassing didn't need to be afraid of me as well. Still, the injustice of everything pissed me off. _Where the hell is a teacher? _I wondered. _Doesn't anyone give a shit_?!

My fists were clenched tightly, almost tight enough for my nails to break through the skin on my palms. At that moment, almost nothing would have satisfied me more than knocking that arrogant smirk right off of Westmore's face.

Jake must have recognized this from the look on my face, because he stepped between me and that self-serving asshole. "H-Hey, come on now, guys!" He protested weakly.

"What about you, _Parker_?" Cody prodded Jake's chest.

"Yeah," Victor simpered, "you Bolton's butt buddy?"

"Lay off, man!" Jake retorted.

"Hey!" A deeper voice cut in. I turned to see Mr Cornell, the Human Anatomy professor, wearing his usual suit and tie, coming toward us. "Let's move it along, here!" He ushered the group of us along.

Muttering an insult that sounded pretty close to, "stupid fag", Cody and his posse booked it.

I turned to Jake, and gestured with a nod for him to follow me. Shaking with barely disguised anger, he did. If Mr. Cornell hadn't showed up when he did, I'm pretty sure things would have escalated and more than a couple of us would have been walking away with more than a heated temper and an unsatisfied urge to pound someone's face in. As Jake and I pulled ourselves back together, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the nearly victimized boy kneel to recover his books.

He caught my eye, the fear in his eyes somewhat quelled, and gave me a nod as if to say, _"Thanks"_.

I didn't think I deserved any.

- 21 Guns-

The moment I came through the apartment door, Ryan gave me a once over before inquiring , "Troy, what's wrong?"

I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't have told my parents what went down. I would have given them the instant shut-out response that, "Nothing", was wrong and I was, "fine". I wouldn't have been comfortable trying to discuss this with Chad. But with Ryan, it just poured out of me. The whole damn thing, even the way I wanted to punch Cody, and felt like I didn't deserve any credit for defending the poor kid those assholes pressed into the lockers. Even their teasing about me and Jake. Instinctively, I found myself looking to Ryan for advice.

I watched him chew the inside of his mouth, his brows crinkling in thought. "…Normally…" he said slowly, "I'd tell you to avoid those primitive-minded bastardizations of a man like a plague of locusts…"

We searched each other's faces tentatively. And suddenly, I didn't want any practical advice. I just wanted to forget the whole thing had happened for a while. And, with as much dependability as the sun rising after the night, he totally and completely understood that. I pressed my lips to his, letting his taste wash everything away… my shame… my fury. When we broke off, he nuzzled into my shoulder. "Is delivery pizza alright for dinner?" I asked, my voice soft.

"Yeah," he nodded and kissed my cheek.

Later, when the delivery guy came, I'm pretty sure the dude was surprised to see me answer the door with my shirt on inside out, and my fly partially undone. He looked over me, recognizing and probably relating to, my lightning fast dressing.

"Party on, dude," he attributed with a nod. I'm pretty sure he would have air-guitared too, if he wasn't holding a pizza box.

"Uh, rock and roll," I replied. I did an awkward strumming motion, then forked over the money.

I told Ry while we were eating that the delivery boy was probably a huge hit at parties.

He let out a "pft" of laughter and said, "I'll be sure to invite Napoleon, Abe Lincoln, Joan of Arc and the Grim Reaper."

I laughed, probably too hard, and pecked him on the cheek, messing up the tilt of the pageboy cap that he put back on for whatever reason.

When I had Ry in that dazed-sleepy state of half arousal that's both hot and totally adorable, from me kissing at his neck and stroking him from the chest down, kneading his lean dancer muscles, he opened up about his day. Just like earlier, where the roles were reversed, the whole story poured out of him.

"We were presenting our original compositions today," he began. "As usual, Gustav volunteered to go first."

_Gustav. _That kid Ryan picked out from the start as the most egotistic and self-serving in his class. I had a bad feeling about where this story was headed.

"He brought two girls who were obviously infatuated with him on stage; one to be his pianist, the other his partner."

I nodded.

"The pianist took her seat at the piano. She played a few chords to start out, a couple of resonating low notes and tinkling high notes. As she played, I noticed something familiar about the base melody. Gustav gave a signal to the lighting crew, and they threw a single spotlight on him and the other girl, Alicia."

I rolled my eyes at the, "single spotlight", thing. It seems to be something all divas want.

"That didn't stop the nagging feeling that beneath all of the tweaking that had been done to it, I _knew _the melody of the song. And then, Gustav began singing passionately." Ryan paused to sit upright.

When he sang, he adopted a French accent, and lowered his voice to imitate Gustav.

_The stars up above_

_ And the moon in the sky_

_ Are just a glimmer in_

_ The corner of my eye_

My heart missed a beat. I _knew _that song. It began coming together.

Ryan looked complete revolted. "Kelsi turned to me and caught my eye. She was so indignant, she looked like she was ready to tear Gustav's head off. Luc and Celeste gave me looks of horror." He slumped back down on the bed, lowering his voice. "I just wanted to throw up."

A tidal wave of disgust hit me. "That _bastard_!" I growled. "That's about as low as you can get!"

Ryan remained silent. After a second, he said, "I couldn't accuse him of stealing "Scintillate" from me. I lost my hand-written copy." He crossed his arms over his chest like he was protecting himself. "I searched, and I couldn't find it anywhere."

"That's not your fault," I told him, laying down behind him. I reached out and rubbed his shoulder and arm, trying to keep him from shutting me out and himself in. "I mean, how could you have known that he'd wind up with it?"

A moment went by. He let out a soft sigh, and then eased into me, pressing his backside to my front. "You're right."

"He'll get his due, just you wait. And we'll find your song, Ry. Or we'll write a new and even better one. We'll write it together."

"Yeah." I could tell from his voice that a faint smile was on his face.

I nuzzled into the back of his neck and felt his spine arch into my chest before relaxing.

"Well, judging from the audience's reaction," he said, "at least I know it was a hit."

Not able to respond to _that_, I hugged Ryan tightly, and focused on inhaling the sweet scent on the back of his neck, hoping that it would help me fight back the urge to vomit.

-The Bells-

Chris Jeffers advertised while toweling himself off in the locker room, that he was having a party at his house, and everyone on the team was invited.

Jake told me that he was feeling isolated from the team by the, "Cody", incident. I felt the same way, but I rationalized that going to this party might help ease tensions. My dad always told me teams cooperate better and have a better sense of unity when they spend more time together, getting to know each other. I wasn't thrilled at seeing Cody and his asshole friends outside of school. I reminded myself to look on the bright side, though. I'd be able to hang out with Jake and Marcus. I had to ask myself if bringing Ryan along was worth the risky situation I'd be putting him in.

When I told him about the party, he replied, "They'd have better luck keeping vultures off of a carcass than preventing me from going with you."

I squeezed him tightly, a smile on my face and a feeling of dread eating at me. Looking back, I realize he could have picked a less morbid analogy.

-Stop and Stare-

Ryan and I held true to our promise and kidnapped Kelsi. She was staying in a dorm on campus and it wasn't hard to find her, snatch her up in spite of her giggling protests, load her into the rental car and bring her back to the apartment. We invited Scot and Marceline to meet her.

"Who's this?" Marceline asked. In her boots, she was several inches taller than Kelsi.

"Marceline, this is Kelsi Nielsen. She's a friend of ours from back home."

"Pleasure to meet you, Kelsi." Marceline extended a hand.

"Pleasure's all mine!" Kelsi shyly took the hand and shook it.

Scot was next to greet Kelsi. As he did, Ryan told me later that he noticed Scot staring for several seconds longer than customary when meeting someone for the first time. "I'm Scot," he finally said smoothly.

"Hi," I recognized the familiar pink creeping across Kelsi's face.

Ryan and I shared a knowing look.

Scot and Marceline spent some time conversing with Kelsi, getting to know her through her responses and the extra tidbits that Ryan and I threw in. Scot seemed particularly interested in the fact that Kelsi's a composer.

Together, Ryan and I casually informed him that she wrote the music for two of our high school plays.

"Can I paint you sometime?" Scot asked.

Kelsi stiffened, the pink darkening on her cheeks.

Marceline turned away, hiding a smile.

_Does she see it, too? _I wondered.

"Composing, I mean." Scot added. His near monotone had a lot more life to it.

"Um, sure! I mean, yeah! Okay." Kelsi replied.

"Great." Scot gave a half-nod and smile. I have to admit, he has a nice smile, although it doesn't impact my heart like Ryan's does.

"His pieces are incredible, honey," Marceline said with pride. "Would you like to see them?"

Kelsi looked quickly from Scot, to Ryan, to me. Ryan and I gave her a nod of encouragement. "Yeah," she responded, ducking her head bashfully. We all filed out, following Marceline out the door and into the apartment across the hall. The front room had some dark colored vintage furniture, and a dark blue carpet. The glow of a black light lit up some posters of Metallica, Evanesence, and other bands that I didn't recognize. On the back wall where most people probably would have set up their TV set, they, instead, had a shelf full of CDs.

"Here it is," Marceline announced, "_casa del Marceline y Scot_."

"It's very…" I started.

"…You!" Ryan finished.

"Scot's art exhibit is in here." She lead us into a room off to the left of the living room, or whatever the black light room was. As we entered the studio, I felt my jaw dropping open in awe. Canvases filled the room, decorated by images of tigers, wolves, cabins on a lakeshore… totally off the hook.

Ryan's eyes were wide, like a kid in a candy store's. I could tell that Kelsi was floored as well. She walked toward a painting of a horse's head and took in the lifelike details of its fur and mane.

"These are _amazing_, dude," I managed to get out. A depiction of two wolves trudging through a snowstorm caught my attention.

"Thanks."

Near the wolves was a picture that I instantly recognized as a slightly younger Marceline. In addition to getting her appearance down, her also got her personality; fierce, intriguing.

"I could spend _hours _in here," Ryan conveyed with a dreamy sigh from somewhere behind me.

"You're _extremely _talented," Kelsi looked up from the horse and over to Scot. "Why haven't you sold any of these yet?"

"Marceline asks me that same question all the time." Scot smiled indulgently.

Marceline gave him a playful shove. "I keep him telling him all the time how much money he could make off of even one of these paintings. I even put that tiger one," she nodded toward a picture of a tiger, its fur damp, climbing out of a river and onto its banks, "on Ebay, just to see how high it would bid for. Someone was willing to offer $300 for it just so they could hang it in their living room. But, being the stubborn ass he is, he refused to sell it."

"Why?" I asked.

"I've considered it," Scot replied. "But sometimes, I just get… attached, I guess." He looked at the picture of Marceline.

Kelsi nodded. "After working with a piece for so long, putting so much of yourself into it, it starts to feel like part of you, and…" She cut herself off, timidly turning back to the portrait.

Scot tilted his head, then moved to stand near Kelsi and the horse picture. He inclined his head to her, studying her face with interest.

"What?" Kelsi asked, as if his intent stare unnerved her.

"You have _pretty _eyes."

Blush flared on Kelsi's cheeks. "I do?"

"Yeah. And, that's not all."

I turned to Ryan and smiled. I had finally managed to, "get into touch with my feminine side."

**A/N: Let me know what you guys thought of this installment. Next chapter, things come to a climax. **


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Are you ready?" I asked Ryan, Scot and Kelsi. The four of us stood outside of Chris Jeffers's house. Scot had reported that Marceline was already inside with her boyfriend.

_Small world_, was my mental response.

Ryan took my hand and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance. "We're ready."

My nerves were instantly calmed by his touch and gentle smile. The stereo was cranked up so loud inside, the bass shook the outside of the house. I self-consciously ran a hand through my hair and then knocked loudly on the wooden door. After knocking, I waited for a response. As I prepared to knock again, Chris answered the door.

"What's up, Bolton?" He greeted me.

"Yo." I gave an awkward nod. "I, uh, brought some friends."

He looked past me at my party. Ryan had intentionally toned it back. He wore a plain white dress shirt, a less clingy pair of jeans and a black fedora. I told him while we were getting ready earlier that day that he didn't have to tone it back and conform for anyone. I told him he had no reason to be afraid of Cody, Victor and their asshole friends. Calling Cody by his last name, Westmore, makes him sound more intimidating, somehow.

"I'm not afraid of _them_," Ryan had told me. No, the carefully guarded terror in his eyes existed for an entirely different reason.

But, still. If those bastards _looked _at him the wrong way, they would have me to answer to.

Chris held the door open wide to give us all room to enter. I watched Ryan wince as the deafening music hit his ears. If we were anywhere else, I would have had my arm draped around him and steered him somewhere with less noise and writhing bodies. Instead, we walked with a deliberate distance between us, hoping no one would be able to tell by looking how many hours we spent with our naked bodies interlocked, how many times I kissed him with all of the fondness in the world after pounding his beautiful round ass into the mattress.

Finally, I recognized Jake's spiky hair. I led Ryan, Kelsi and Scot over in his direction, happy to see that he was sitting with Marcus, a pretty girl that I assumed was the girlfriend Marcus gushed about, Charlotte, and Charlotte's boyfriend, Tyler Ross.

"Hey, guys!" I announced myself to them.

There was a chorus of greetings. I introduced Ryan, Scot and Kelsi, gesturing to each one.

After general introductions were done, Marcus nodded toward the girl he was with. "This is Jasmine, my girlfriend."

Jasmine had wavy brown hair with light brown highlights and striking hazel eyes. "Hello, Troy. Everyone." Her voice was like silk.

We returned her polite "hello".

I felt Ryan's hand brush my arm. I looked at him curiously and with his eyes, he pointed out something directly behind us. I turned to see what that "something" was, and a cold weight hit my stomach.

"Hey, Bolton," Cody Westmore slurred into my ear. I could feel myself scowling. "Who is _this_?" He prompted.

I watched his big hand come down on Ryan's shoulder. Although I refused to give Cody the satisfaction of looking at him, I could tell from his tone of voice that a smug smirk was on his face.

It took every ounce of my self-restraint to keep from slamming my fist into his face. I couldn't even look to Ryan for comfort because everyone would learn the nature of our relationship from the intensity in our eyes.

I knew that Ryan could tell what kind of effect Cody's presence was having on me. Even though it didn't show on his face, I knew that he was _infuriated_.

"This is Ryan," I began. _My boyfriend_, my mind finished, _so you better take your filthy fucking hands off of him! _"My friend," I finished aloud.

"You sure he's not your _date_?" His hand still hadn't moved from Ry's shoulder.

There was a movement from Scot.

"What about you, Parker?"

Jake sat up, rigid.

"D'you have a date, or are you guys in a threesome?"

Jake's gaze hardened. "Come on, man. Knock it off."

"Yeah," Marcus agreed. "It's not funny."

"Oh, whatever, you guys are all lames." Cody scoffed, turning away.

Ryan and I glared after him.

As the tension began to die out, Kelsi piped up, a stunned expression on her face, "Jeez, what is with that guy?"

"He's a fucking _asshole_,"I replied, fighting to keep my volume in check.

"Yeah, and he prob'ly has a tiny dick, too," Jake muttered.

"How long has he been harassing you guys?" Charlotte asked, her eyes wide and concerned.

"This is a recent development," I answered her. _Breathe, that's it. In, out._

"I _know _that boy doesn't have a girlfriend," Jasmine remarked. "A girl would have to be outta her mind to date an asshole like that."

Scot's eyes were cold fire. Contempt hardened the light in them.

Just as I began to wonder what about this had him so pissed, I noticed Ryan hadn't moved or said a word throughout the ordeal. "Hey, Ry. You okay?"

He turned to me and murmured, "I'm fine." As he faced everyone else, he gave them a smile. It didn't fool me.

The party was in full swing. I stayed close to Ryan, for the most part. We found a nice place relatively out of sight in the kitchen to hang out. Charlotte sought us out.

"So, this is your boyfriend, Troy?"

"Yeah." A smile played on my face and I linked hands with Ryan.

"He's adorable!"

Ryan brushed the compliment off with a flick of his wrist. "Me? No way."

"Oh, just look at you!" Charlotte exclaimed. "You're so modest!"

"Hey, Char."

Ry and I looked up, disconnecting our hands and Charlotte turned at the voice that called her name.

It was Tyler. He turned an inquisitive gaze on me and Ryan. "You guys don't mind if I borrow my girlfriend, do you?"

"No," I replied.

"Not at all," Ryan chimed in.

Charlotte looked surprised, but when Tyler offered his arm to her, she took it and let him steer her away. Turning, she called back, "I'll talk to you guys later, alright?"

"Alright." We watched them go.

"She's friendly enough," Ryan murmured.

"Yeah," I smiled.

"She did seem somewhat off-put by his sudden appearance, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you see the look on her face when-?"

A sudden pressure on my bladder made me halt. "Ry, hold on. I have to go to the bathroom." A huge part of me kept me rooted there, however.

"Well, go. It's alright." Ryan gave me a nudge to send me on my way.

"But-!" I started.

"People would find it really suspicious if they saw both of us go into the bathroom together," he said in a low voice.

Like always, I found myself unable to argue with his logic. "Okay. I'll be _right _back." I promised him.

He shook his head, an amused smile playing on his petal lips as I gave him one last look before dashing off.

-It Only Hurts-

When I re-emerged from the bathroom, I heard Charlotte's voice calling my name. I looked around for her and she ran to me, her eyes wide with panic and desperation.

"Troy!" She gasped, the color drained from her face. "Troy, come quick! …Ryan!"

My blood pounding in my ears, I raced after her. Terror gripped my heart so powerfully, I could barely breathe. If people were staring at us or if they had carried on partying, completely oblivious, I can't say.

All I know is that when we re-entered the kitchen, I saw a petite, skinny blond boy laying on his back, a freshly formed bruise marring his pretty face, and a cut red with welling blood, under his lower lip. Pain ripped into my heart like blades.

"Troy," I heard Kelsi start, her voice quaking, "Sc-Scot and I heard him whimpering, and we came running…!" She broke off, as if unable to get the words out.

"That son of a bitch, Westmore!" Scot spat.

Violent fury rose in me. _Cody Westmore_. A red haze gathered in front of my eyes. My head was filled with visions of taking Cody Westmore with his douchey blond cowlick and punching him repeatedly until he bled. Until he felt pain equal to what he inflicted on Ryan. My beautiful Ryan… "Where the hell is that _bastard_?" I roared. "Where is he? I'll fucking _kill _him!"

"Troy… Troy, stop!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw curly brunette hair. I felt a gentle but firm touch on my arm. "Troy, don't! _Please_," Kelsi's voice was begging me.

"Think of Ryan!" Charlotte reminded me frantically.

_Ryan. _The red haze dissipated.

"Troy," a light, feeble voice called to me.

My breath rate slowed. I felt my lower lip tremble as I forced myself forward on shaking legs. "I'm here, Ry," I assured him. "I'm right here." I dropped down on my knees beside him and took his hand into mine.

"Troy, don't you _dare…_try to fight him!" He relayed between agonized breaths. I watched his chest rise and fall weakly. Each breath he drew was labored, as if the mere actions of inhaling and exhaling were hurting him immeasurably.

My own breath got caught in my throat, like a jagged rock stuck in my windpipe. Relief that he was conscious and talking, and despair, horror and rage at his pain battled each other inside of me.

He tried to pull himself up only to cry out, clutching at his ribs.

"I won't fight him," I promised. "I won't. Just please, don't try to move!" My voice was low, quaking, so desperate, it was alien. I felt like a lost child. I was terrified. My Ryan was hurt, his ribs possibly broken, a red welt darkening on his face as that ugly bruise turned into a ghastly mixture of purple, blue and yellow.

A memory hit me. I remembered again how, after the accident, Ryan had pushed aside his own fear and maintained a calm exterior for my sake. At the moment, he was probably even more terrified than me, unable to move, to even breathe correctly. Taking in a breath, I knew it was my turn to assume the role of fearless leader. Just like that day when I walked in on him packing to head off to Juilliard, I had to be strong enough for both of us. Summoning my self-control, I turned to Charlotte and Kelsi. I cleared my throat, forcing that jagged piece of rock out. "Kelsi, call 9-1-1. Charlotte, tell everyone to clear a space out. Scot."

Scot looked up, the intensity of the cold fire in his eyes diluted.

"Get his legs. We've got to get him out of here."

With a half-nod, Scot joined me at Ryan's side.

I stepped around my boyfriend to link my arms under his. "Ry," I told him, making my voice even and reassuring, "hold on, babe. This is gonna hurt." I caught Scot's eye and nodded. Simultaneously, we lifted Ryan, doing our best to keep his body level. He's a featherweight, so it wasn't very difficult. Still, I can't stress how important handling him with care was.

The strain was evident on Ryan's face, but he grit his teeth in spite of the pain most likely racing through his torso like high voltage electricity. As much as it destroyed me to see him suffering from any sort of pain, I knew the only thing I could do was get him to a hospital.

Kelsi clicked her phone shut as Scot and I passed her. "The operator said to bring him in, Troy." Her lower lip quivered and the color completely left her face as tears streaked down it.

"It'll be alright, Kelsi,"I assured her, Ryan and myself.

"I'll be fine," Ryan joined in, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse and ragged, broken by again by shallow, pained gasps.

"Shh,"I quieted him. "You're hurting yourself more."

"Come on," Scot said softly, nodding to Kelsi.

She moved swiftly into us, hugging her arms around her tiny body.

Charlotte had done as I asked, and somehow magically cleared a path for us to pass through. People were staring and gossip spread like wildfire.

"What happened?"

"Did someone beat that boy up?"

"Was there a fight?"

"Aww, man. No one told me? You guys suck!"

"Why is Bolton carrying that boy?"

With the sound of the deafening music gone, my shaky breaths and Ryan's shallow ones were amplified. I couldn't linger on the rumors. I made myself concentrate on my main objective. Until I heard Jake speak up.

"Damn it, Westmore! I've had enough of your shit!"

My head whipped around, my blood ice as Jake approached Cody Westmore, his hazel eyes blazing.

That bastard Westmore had a devious smirk on his face, his eyes gleaming tauntingly. "Come on. Do something about it, you redneck pansy!" He shoved Jake, nearly knocking him over and into the crowd of bystanders. "Show me how much of a man you are!"

"You're just a punk ass son of a-!" Jake started, bearing his teeth as he moved forward again, his fist raised.

"Jake, stop!" Charlotte cried out. I watched her make a start for Jake only for Tyler's hand to close around her wrist and pull her back.

"What are you doing?" Tyler asked, his eyes wide with alarm.

"I can't let him…! I don't want to see anyone else hurt tonight!" She jerked her arm, breaking free of Tyler's grip and ran to Jake as he advanced on Cody. "Jake, _please_. Don't." Grabbing hold of his arm, she looked up fearfully into his eyes.

That must have been enough convincing for Jake. He did lower his fist and turn away, but not before spitting on Cody first.

"You little _shit_!" Cody spat. Marcus and Chris had to run in and hold him back to keep him from lunging at Jake.

After Cody's momentary struggle against his restraints, the tension was just subsiding. It shot up again as I recognized Marceline's voice. "I can't believe _you _had a hand in this! …That you would-!"

Her accusations were being directed at a stricken Victor Rodriguez. My heart missed a beat as I connected the dots. Victor _is Marceline's _boyfriend_? Or _was_? _

"Marceline, I can explain-! Victor offered desperately. "We caught that _puto _snooping around, and-"

"'_Puto_"?" The sound of a slap rang out.

Victor rubbed at his cheek, stupefied.

"That "_puto_", happens to be a friend of mine. And if you can't accept that," Marceline whirled on the heels of her steel-toe boots, her entire body tensed and shaking. Ryan and I had never seen her like this. It was… perturbing, to say the least. "…Then _hasta la vista_, _pandejo_!"

She joined me, Ryan, Scot and Kelsi. Scot gave her a burning look and she met it steadily before averting her eyes. The five of us quickly left, not looking back. I sent up a prayer to whatever higher power there is that Jake, Charlotte, Marcus and Jasmine would all get out without problems.

Kelsi and Marceline took the back seat of the rental car. They helped to gently drape Ryan across their laps.

I removed Ry's hat and wiped at the cold sweat forming on his delicate brow. "You'll be alright," I assured him. "You're strong." Slightly turning his face, I kissed his bruise-free right cheek. Pulling back, I took in the upside down view of his face. Even from that angle, I saw the fierce and brilliant sparkle fading from his sky colored eyes. "You're a fighter," I told him, brushing a few gelled locks of golden blond away to press my lips against his forehead. I felt his brows knitting together under my lips as he gasped, taking in another shallow breath.

When I pulled away, he took my hand and clasped it tightly. I felt wretched. I didn't want to leave him. But… He let go of my hand and nodded slightly, giving me the okay.

"We'll look after him, okay, Troy?' Marceline squeezed my shoulder, her brown eyes soft.

"Okay." I gave Ryan one last look, then ran around and climbed into the driver's seat.

"You'll be fine, sweetie," Marceline murmured soothingly to Ryan. I could see her stroke his hand when I looked into the mirrors to fix them.

The drive to the hospital was agony. Scot and Marceline took turns trying to console Kelsi, but nothing they said seemed to work. Finally giving up, Scot switched on the radio, trying to take the edge off of all of our anxieties. I appreciate it, but Nickelback and Taio Cruz could not drown out the haunting sound of Ryan's pitiful inhalations as they ate at me. And Lady Gaga couldn't stop me from turning back to check on Ryan at every stop light.

-Once Upon A Time In New York City-

"I hate to say this, but they're definitely broken."

The news wasn't unexpected, but I still jumped at hearing it confirmed.

Ryan's reaction was to lower his head defeatedly.

It made my skin prickle. I've heard sometimes in bad situations, people go completely numb. Their senses are deadened to everything going on around them. They like, completely detach themselves from reality and shut down to cope. That didn't happen to me, or Ryan, like it did with the car crash. I was perfectly aware of everything, _too _aware.

The doctor, a thirty-something year old man with the name Donald Lawson printed on his name tag, and who was lucky enough to still have a full, thick hairline, pointed out the breakage on the x-ray. "It's a relatively clean break," he announced. "It shouldn't take more than six weeks to heal." He went over to his computer and emailed the Evans family's physician in order to prescribe Ryan with a painkiller.

Once he filled out the prescription for some Advil, Ry and I thanked Dr. Lawson and I helped Ryan back out the door to the car. Knowing full well of the long drive ahead, I made a stop at the nearest drug store, a CVS, and picked up the Advil and a bottle of water. The pharmacist gave me an odd look when I told her I was picking up my boyfriend's prescription, but thankfully kept quiet, probably knowing how messed up and overly lucid I was.

Marceline helped me prop Ryan up so he could swallow his pill. He began coughing furiously, and for a second, I thought he was choking on the gulp of water, but after a moment, the coughing stopped and he lowered himself back onto the cushion Marceline was providing for his head.

More troubled than I could possibly describe, I returned to the driver's seat and began the drive home. Before leaving, Kelsi took one of Ryan's hands and told him, "You _better _get well soon, Mr. Choreographer."

If she'd said that in a better situation, I probably would have smiled. I thanked her for everything she did that night.

She gave me a weak smile and thanked me in return.

"I'm alright," Ryan told her. "Don't worry."

Kelsi turned away.

Scot promised to call her later.

We watched her walk into the big school before we drove away.

Marceline and Scot both helped me take Ryan to the apartment. For the first time in my life, I used an elevator instead of taking the stairs.

"I'm really sorry about Victor," I told Marceline.

"Don't worry about it." Even though she brushed it off, I could tell she had been cut deeply.

"It wasn't your fault," Ryan spoke up, his voice still hoarse as if he had a bad cold or hadn't spoken in days.

"I know." Marceline managed a half-hearted smile before meeting Scot's eyes.

_I can make him pay_, his eyes read.

_Don't waste your time_, was her response.

When we reached our floor, the four of us parted ways. Ryan became increasingly despondent, pulling into himself. It deeply unnerved me. I helped him undress and get into the cramped shower. He sat there in the tub, worn out from everything.

Gently, I reached out and, as lightly as I could with my big, stupid hands, I brushed the bruise on his soft cheek with my knuckle. He hardly winced. The pain killer was obviously doing its job.

"I ruined it…" Ryan's voice was subdued, the summery blue of his eyes dark and haunted. "This was supposed to be my chance… _our _chance. Now, because of me, you'll never be able to show your face to any of those people again."

"That's not true, Ry. I have some really good friends in that group. They'll defend me."

Neither of us had to voice the thought that hung unspoken between us; _At what cost?_

My eyes fixed on the purple bruise on the left side of his ribcage. I couldn't decide whether or not I hated it more than the hideous bruise on his face.

"Cody Westmore apparently has _excellent _gaydar. You're far from obvious, Troy, but he _knows. _He and that other asshole," Ry's voice cracked slightly, "Victor, were discussing their nefarious plan to expose you. They didn't see me standing there until it was too late. I threatened that bastard Cody with every bit of power my family has. I managed to dodge his first blow as he threw the usual set of names at me; "cock sucker". "Fairy". The next thing I knew, two sets of arms were holding me back…" He stared at spot on the floor of the tub where the paint was chipping away. "I should have _known _that struggling was useless. And then-" He flinched, his eyes squinting shut. "Big fists slammed into me, pummeling me and I wanted to punch _myself _for sounding so pathetic and weak. I _whimpered _like a spineless bitch." He swallowed, shaking his head in detest. "Kelsi came running with Scot on her heels. When they heard Kelsi cry out and Scot threaten to "beat the living shit" out of all of them, Cody punched me one final time, and I heard, and _felt _my ribs snap."

I stared at him, unable to find my tongue. Again, so many emotions were fighting inside of me, I had no idea how to feel or react.

Ryan's eyes moved to a spot in the interior of the tub right in front of him. "Everyone at that party saw you carry me out, Troy…and they're all going to..!" He cut himself off off as if the thought was too much for him to handle. "They want to _destroy _you, Troy… and I gave them the ultimate weapon to-!"

"Stop that," I told him, my voice soft, but firm. Unshakably firm. "_Nothing _is going to happen to me, Ryan. And none of the shit that happened tonight is Kelsi's fault, or yours, okay? _None _of it, Ryan."

I turned the knobs and warm water rushed out of the rusted faucet. I took some of Ry's Suave ocean scented body wash, lathered the gel up, then carefully rubbed it onto his body. He sighed into my touch and I felt a twinge in my jeans, but I ignored it. Fucking someone who had been beaten-up, and had their ribs broken only about an hour and a half ago, seemed pretty screwed-up to me.

After washing his hair, I helped him out of the bath and he dressed for bed. For the first time, I noticed the way the floor boards creaked under my weight and it irked me. Ryan, however, was way too quiet.

"Do you wanna listen to music?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied.

I switched on the boom box we had bought to spruce up the place and was greeted by a familiar melody from the days of my childhood spent on the couch beside my mom, watching whatever romance or family friendly movie she had on: "Once Upon A Time In New York City", that haunting song that played over the opening of Disney's "Oliver and Company" while the little orange kitten, Oliver struggled just to stay alive on the cruel streets of New York City.

Now, here we were. After taking off my shirt, I had no energy to do anything else. Under the music, I could hear the steady pattering of rain, and watched raindrops splatter against the window pane, distorting the bright city lights.

Carefully, Ryan curled up on the bed, not bothering with the covers. "I've fucked up…" he murmured, his voice eerily flat. "My first chance, and I've fucked it up so completely."

"Hey, no you haven't." I made my way over, cautiously joining him on the bed. "What happened tonight is just a minor setback. Your chance isn't gone unless you think it is."

He didn't reply.

I rubbed a hand down his back, able to feel the bumps of his spinal cord, even through his t-shirt. He was so fragile and I realized that more than his ribs had been broken that night. My arms wrapped around him. I was desperate to give him some form of comfort. To let him know that I was there.

He melted against me, his tension leaving him.

Under the voice of Huey Lewis, I could make out the sound of Ryan giving a sob as the tears rolled down his face and onto the pillow.

_Keep your dream alive_

_Dreamin' is still how _

_ The strong _

_ Survive_

_ Once upon a time_

_ In New York City_

A lump rose in my throat and it took _everything _to keep myself from falling to pieces.

**A/N: Next chapter: Troy, Ryan and Kelsi return to Albuquerque for the Holidays. **


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Ry's injury left him unable to do much as far as dancing, and with his spirit crushed, he was unable to cope with the sneers and mockery from his self-absorbed competition. They hurled insults at him, like, "It looks like twinkle toes can no longer pirouette", and, "At least we don't have to worry about glitter covering the stage."

That cinched it for me. But, I was also scared to death of something happening to him while he walked to and from Juilliard, so I talked him into staying home. Kelsi frequently dropped by to bring Ryan his work in English, History and Philosophy. Ryan was excused from all of his theater related classes due to his injury.

At Berkeley, there was hardly any of the usual talk of getting laid or getting high in the locker rooms. I expected Cody to do something, like yell out a warning about not dropping the soap, or make me wait until the rest of the team had finished before showering, but he didn't. He kept quiet in the shower, avoiding looking at me at all costs. On the court, however, he constantly tossed Jake and me glares and forced us to work harder than the rest of the team. He said we were being "penalized".

Jake called it "bullshit".

Victor was oddly subdued, and would zone out several times during practice. Sometimes he even wandered off, on his cell phone as he desperately tried to get ahold of someone. My guess was he was trying to talk to Marceline. From what Marceline told me, his personality would have to check into rehab before she would even consider looking at him, let alone talking to him again.

As for me, my concentration was suffering in my academic classes. I'd start writing notes, let my mind drift to Ryan alone in our apartment all day while I was at school, or Cody Westmore and Thom Vincent and Grady Connors lurking in the hallways, ready to pulverize Jake… me... Ryan, and the next thing I knew, the bell was ringing and I was staring at three lines on an otherwise empty page.

The snow was piling up quickly on the streets. I can count on one hand the number of times it's really snowed in Albuquerque during my life, and even then, the snow doesn't stick around long.

On my last day before break, Charlotte and Jake came to me in the mostly empty hallway.

"Troy, Jake has something he'd like to tell you." Charlotte gave Jake a gentle nudge forward.

Jake's hazel eyes moved from his feet to meet my eyes. "Troy, I know about you and Ryan."

My stomach lurched and it must have shown on my face.

"No, man. It's all cool," he assured me. He rubbed unsurely at the sleeve of his long sleeve shirt that he wore under a "Guitar Hero" t-shirt. He looked to Charlotte and she gave him an encouraging smile, touching his arm. "My younger brother, Charley," Jake continued, "he came out to me last year. I wondered why we never talked about girls, or why I never caught him… doin' "guy stuff". Then he told me he liked, y' know, other guys." Jake shifted his weight as if the next part made him uncomfortable. "He was so freakin' _scared_, Troy. He couldn't go to our mom, 'cause he thought she'd think he was sick and have him sent away, or something. So I told him I'd protect him. And if _anyone _ever gave him a hard time about it, he could come to me and I would help him deal with the problem."

It all fell into place. _So that's why Jake was so upset when he saw Cody bullying that boy, and when he saw Ryan..!_

"I just wanted to tell you," Jake continued, "That I've got your back through this, Troy. You're a good friend, and I'm gonna return the favor."

Hope stirred briefly in my chest, kind of like wings fluttering.

"Thanks, man." I gave a nod. "I really appreciate it."

"We'll keep in touch over break!" Charlotte said, smiling brightly.

"Yeah, I'll e-mail you!" Jake agreed.

"Awesome! That's awesome." I couldn't help but break into a grin. Just knowing without a doubt that I had physical support, as well as the support of Ryan and our friends, was enough to erase some of my anxieties.

Charlotte enveloped me in a hug, and Jake and I pounded fists before hugging and patting each other's backs.

-Love Like Woe-

Ry was just getting off of the phone when I walked into the apartment. "I scheduled our flight," he informed me, his blue eyes sliding to me. "How was your day? No problems or anything, right?"

"My day was just fine." I smiled and filled him in on the details of what Charlotte and Jake had told me. It was enough to put him at ease. But I wanted to make sure he was alright. "How do you feel?"

He was huddled on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his petite body. "Alright," he replied. "It's pretty chilly, though."

"Yeah." I kicked the snow off my boots, like Ry and my mom taught me, then kicked my shoes off. I hung my coat in the closet, and then sat on the couch, snuggling under the blankets with him.

As he nuzzled into my neck, he remarked, "You smell like snow."

"I do?"

"Yeah." His arms wrapped tight around me. "How can you smell like freezing cold and still be so warm?"

I smiled down at him, so comfortable and relaxed at the happiness of him taking me into his arms at the end of an excruciatingly long week that my eyes were half-closed. "I don't know. I'm just magical like that, I guess."

"You really are." Ryan's voice sounded far away, like he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right there.

The sound of my phone going off brought both of us out of our happy daze. I dug it out of my pocket and recognized Chad's name on the caller id. "Talk to me, man."

"Hey, Troy." Chad's voice was flat. He didn't have any of his signature "Chad Danforth" liveliness.

"What's up, dude? You alright?"

"Man…" Chad let out a huge sigh. "Taylor broke up with me yesterday."

My heart missed a beat. "I'm really sorry, Chad. That sucks."

"Yeah. I guess the distance was too much for her, or something."

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. Taylor was Chad's third girlfriend. His first was a brief fling that lasted for three days in the first grade. His second was Sharpay for a week in the ninth grade. Their personalities clashed. She called him a "basketball robot", he called her a "vicious mountain lion ready to pounce" and that was all she wrote. After Chad broke-up with the "Ice Queen", he swore me to secrecy on the grounds that he would tell everyone about a toy robot my dad got me for my eighth birthday, named"Robo-Rob", which I'm ashamed to admit I still have. I'm guessing Sharpay made Ryan swear to keep it a secret too, because we're the only other people who know.

It was then that I started noticing the way Chad looked at the president of the Chemistry Club, Taylor, who was only a member of it, back then. He was pretty obviously checking her out. He even walked into a wall once, he was so distracted by her and one of her pastel colored cardigans. Eventually, he confided in me about his feelings for the girl who considered us all "zoo animals" just because we played sports. When Chad and Taylor started dating our junior year, I was so happy for him.

A lot of people thought Chad was only dating Taylor because I'm his best friend and Gabriella was hers. That's not true. When Gabriella and I fell out the summer of our junior year, Chad and Taylor were still going strong. Not to mention that they managed to out last mine and Gabriella's "meant-to-be" relationship.

"You still there, Troy?" Chad asked, noticing my silence.

"Yeah!" I replied. Slowly, an idea was forming in my mind. "I'm really sorry, Chad, but listen; Ryan and I are coming back home for break. We can hang out, maybe shoot some hoops like old times."

"Yeah." I could almost see the half-smile on Chad's face.

Ryan pulled the blanket aside and hauled himself off of the couch. I watched him make his way to the bedroom.

Chad and I talked a bit more about school. I followed Ry into the bedroom as Chad filled me in on the looks our friends Zeke and Jason were giving each other.

"It's pretty suspicious."

"I'll bet."

Ryan took clothes out of our sock and underwear drawer and laid them neatly in a suitcase. Even with the dose of Advil, I could see the strain on his face. Silently, I pulled out a couple more pairs of underwear, folded them the best I could, and added them to Ryan's tidy but small pile.

He gave me a look, his eyes glowing softly.

I met the look and continued, pulling out the clothes I would need for the trip.

"I'm really looking forward to this," Chad said. "Seeing you and Ryan again will be great."

"Absolutely," I agreed, a smile on my face. We'd catch up, crack jokes, hang out and play basketball with Ryan watching, or maybe I'd teach him how to play so he could join us. I was already excited. One thing, though, absolutely terrified me.

"Tell Chad we can play baseball together if he wants. Or he and I could have a dance off, and you could be the judge," Ryan put in as he folded shirts.

"Sounds fantastic, Ry." I relayed the message to Chad.

"You tell Evans to name the time and place." Chad stated, more of the good old Chad I know and love coming through.

I laughed in spite of the guilt gnawing at my stomach.

-Departure-

Marceline and Scot came with us to the airport to say, "See you soon."

Kelsi was also boarding the plan to spend the holidays with her friends and family in Albuquerque.

At the entrance to the terminal, Scot and Kelsi hung back. They said things that I couldn't hear to each other and I watched as Scot pecked her on the cheek.

Marceline nudged me. "Nosy! Give them some privacy." The first smirk since her break-up was on her face.

Ryan simply shook his head, wearing a tiny bemused smile.

When Scot and Kelsi returned to us, Kelsi's eyes were glittering behind the lenses of her glasses.

_She _does_ have pretty eyes_, I noted.

"Have a great holiday, you guys," Ryan said.

"You, too," Scot returned.

"Thank you for everything." Ry's voice cracked slightly.

"Don't mention it, honey." Marceline leaned in and gave my boyfriend a careful hug. Even though Ry is over a head taller than her, he somehow managed to look incredibly small and fragile in her arms.

"You take care of yourselves." She opened her arms and hugged me next.

I flushed and awkwardly patted her back. Mm. Boobs. I have no idea why they feel so weird pressed against my chest.

The three of us, me, Ry and Kels boarded the plane. I cupped my hands around my mouth and hollered. "See you guys in January!", then waved with my boyfriend and our little friend.

Kelsi wound up in a seat across the aisle and a few rows behind us.

Ryan let out a sigh as he sank back against the seat, shifting to make himself comfortable.

I put in one earbud of my Ipod and stared at the other passengers until they stared back, then looked out the window.

Once the plane had taken off and was soaring thousands of miles in the air, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned to peer into Ryan's sky blue eyes.

"Stop blaming yourself," he told me. "There is maybe a handful of people who could have handled this situation as well as you are. You didn't throw the punch."

"I know."

He lay his head on my shoulder. "I hate seeing you so miserable."

"I'm not." I draped an arm around him and ran my fingers through the golden blond hairs that came to his mid-neck. "I just want you to get better."

He remained silent for a moment, his body tense. "…Maybe," he said slowly, "I don't deserve to."

My eyes widened, but I forced myself to shake off the shock. "Don't talk like that, Ry!"

He must have seen how it affected me anyway. "I'm sorry." He jerked upright, the movement causing him to grit his teeth. "I'm sorry. F-Forget I said that." He turned away, his eyes dark.

"Ry." I reached for him just as the stewardess, a wavy-haired blonde, probably in her early twenties, was checking in on everyone.

"Is there anything you boys need?" She asked, her tone warm and courteous.

"No, thank you." I answered.

"No, thank you." Ryan's voice was barely more than a whisper.

Sometime later, I awoke to the opening riffs of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" and found Ryan sound asleep, his head lolling against my shoulder and his hat falling off.

I took his hat and put it in my lap. The sun was beginning to set outside my window. I turned back to Kelsi. She was completely immersed in a stack of papers, probably some sheet music. I switched off my Ipod, seeing the charge bar mostly drained.

"This is your pilot speaking," an easy voice declared over the intercom. "Passengers, we have two hours until we touchdown at Albuquerque International Sunport. Sit tight."

Settling myself, I laid back against my chair and, inhaling Ryan's sweet, strawberry scented hair, I drifted off to sleep.

-Homecoming-

I can think few things worse than bringing someone that you were entrusted with taking care of, back home to their parents and loved ones, broken.

When I came through the door of the Evans's mansion with Ryan, and his parents saw his condition, deep lines of worry creased their faces.

"Ducky, dear!" Mrs. Evans exclaimed, running forward. She took Ryan's face into her hands with a mother's tenderness.

Watching her eyes cloud with worry as she took in the bruises tainting Ry's beauty, I wanted to throw myself off of a bridge.

"What happened?"

"Mom, it's okay. I-" Ryan started.

"_I _left him alone at a party," I spoke up.

"He had to use the bathroom," Ryan interjected. "There was no way Troy could have known something would happen!"

Mr. and Mrs. Evans traded a look.

Together, Ryan and I told the story of how my fuck-up resulted in two of Ry's left ribs getting snapped by a fucking neanderthal. Even as I heaped the blame on myself, Ry did everything in his power to defend me.

His face set, Mr. Evans declared, "I'll contact the board of admissions at Berkeley and see if we can't deal with this Westmore boy." He looked us over, his expression softening. "In the meantime, son," he squeezed Ryan's shoulder gently, "go get some rest."

Turning to the stairs, Ryan shot me a look of hardly concealed sadness and longing.

As much as I wanted to run to him and take him into my arms, I clenched my fists and stayed rooted to the spot. I was ready to see myself out if Mr. Evans told me to.

"Troy."

I looked up into the stern face of Mr. Evans. He had been ready to welcome me into his family with open arms, the summer my friends and I worked for him at Lava Springs. Now that I had done something stupid that caused his son to come back to him physically and spiritually broken, would he turn me out like I deserved?

"Do your parents know you're here?"

"No, sir."

"Well, give them a call, and then you get upstairs, too."

My wall that I fortified more for the sake of my pride, but also to keep Ryan out of that dark place where he blamed himself for everything, came crashing down. I could feel tears streaking down my face. I used the back of my hand to wipe at my eyes. "Th-Thank you, sir." I choked out. _That's right_, I reprimanded myself. _I damn well better thank him. He's granting me a privilege I hardly deserve. _

When I walked into Ryan's room with the familiar lavender walls, king size bed, posters of famous musicals like "Hairspray", the "Phantom of the Opera" and "The Wizard of Oz", and a poster of me in my Wildcat's uniform decorating the walls, Ryan turned to me. His luscious lower lip quavered.

"Ryan…" I said, my voice somewhere between a low moan of need and a whisper.

He moved into me and threw his arms around me.

Tears stung my eyes and I closed them, nuzzling into Ryan's soft blond hair. Again, I was aware of tears rolling down my cheeks.

-All For One-

The next day was helter-skelter. I called Chad up and he managed to rally the rest of the Wildcats to visit Ryan.

Martha Cox, a bubbly brunette girl who went from a brainiac to a cheerleader who can really break it down, showed up with Kelsi.

Giving Ryan a careful bear hug, Martha produced a copy of the newest Lady Gaga CD, "Born This Way".

Ry's face lit up and I smiled, my heart giving a little leap. "Oh, you shouldn't have!" He exclaimed.

"Well, I know how much you love her."

"Thank you! Thank you _so much_."

"Don't mention it, Ryan." Martha smiled. "I hope this will get you back on your feet and turnin' out some dope moves A-sap."

"Thanks, Martha," I added.

She flashed me a grin.

Kelsi stepped forward next. "Before we left New York, I got some of the kids from Juilliard to sign this." She held out an envelope.

Ryan opened it and together, he and I poured over the card inside. It was a sweet, sentimental "Get well soon", card, decorated with music notes, staves and clefs of all colors. It was so Kelsi. I recognized her signature from my yearbook. I could also make out the names Celeste and Luc inscribed in extravagant cursive manuscript.

The look Ryan gave me could have melted a heart of ice. He turned to Kelsi, his expression much more controlled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Kelsi flushed, smiling quietly.

She and Martha made an awkward exit past Zeke and Jason, who were the next to arrive. Both girls waved to Zeke, but carefully averted their eyes from his shaggy-haired companion. Kels and Martha were both with Jason our junior and senior year respectively. Now, as far as I knew, they had moved on and didn't want to be reminded of the past. I had heard from Ryan that Jason and Kelsi's break-up was especially difficult for both parties.

"We didn't bring anything," Zeke said to Ryan, "but if you want, I'll whip something up for you."

"That's alright," Ryan assured him sotto voce.

"I could like, let you borrow my "Diary of A Wimpy Kid" books," Jason put in.

Ryan let out a slight modest laugh. "No, it's alright. Thank you."

A couple more kids from East High, former underclassmen fans who were now juniors, and juniors who became seniors, dropped by to wish Ry well.

Every time, he gave me a look of immeasurable gratitude and something else. Once the excitement died down, it was just me, Ry, Chad, Zeke, and Jason. I couldn't recall a time where the five of us ever hung out together. _Never too late to start_.

"So, what's it like man, being a Berkeley Knight?" Chad prompted.

"It's alright." I gave my best attempt at a smile, feeling Ry's eyes on me. I knew he'd find someway to divert the subject if Chad ventured into something that was too difficult for me to talk about.

"Can't beat bein' a Wildcat, huh?" Chad playfully punched my shoulder.

"Yeah."

""Once a Wildcat, always a Wildcat", right?" Zeke threw in, quoting the closing line of my graduation speech.

I chuckled a little. "Yeah."

"And what about you, Ryan?" My bushy-haired best friend asked, his eyes glowing softly with some of his characteristic good humor. "I heard some crap about Juilliard."

"It's alright." Ry murmured.

"Just "alright"? Sounds like the place is packed full of a bunch of prissy, high-maintenance show dogs."

"There are a couple of people who would fit into that category, but everyone else is fine. _Really_." Ryan added with a smile,

I already filled Chad in on the details of how my beautiful boyfriend sustained such a damn awful injury.

He told me that he would have gone Mike Tyson or Bruce Lee on Cody Westmore. Imagining Chad pulling out a can of whoop-ass on that dickwad admittedly made me feel better.

"What about you two?" I looked to Jason and Zeke, my eyebrows raised. "Chad's told me about the looks you guys give each other."

Ryan sat up, his eyebrows elevated as well.

Jason looked to Zeke, then lowered his brown eyes to the floor, pushing his dark shaggy bangs out of his face.

"Well, uh," Zeke started. He bit back a laugh, his dark cheeks flushing. "After Sharpay broke up with me, I was pretty messed up."

Of course. Zeke had had his eye on Sharpay since our junior year. His cooking abilities finally got him the attention he wanted from the diva.

We all had our suspicions that his mean creme brulee was the _only _thing she wanted him for; not his dedication to her, or his genuine interest in her, or anything. They spent the latter part of the summer at Lava Springs and our senior year fooling around. Even though it was fairly exclusive, no one saw it as anything other than a fling. We all knew Sharpay would never let herself be tied here forever by a guy.

Everyone knew that, except Zeke.

"I'm really sorry about that." Ryan lowered his eyes, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He told me before that seeing Sharpay let Zeke go was a real shame. He couldn't help but feel sorry for both of them.

"No, it's alright." Zeke half-smiled.

I moved into Ryan and draped an arm around his narrow shoulders.

Taking this as a signal to continue, Zeke went on, "Well, one day, Jason dropped by to cheer me up."

"I brought booze over," Jason chipped in.

"We had a few drinks, and…"

"Zeke made a creme brulee and some cookies," Jason inputted, again.

"Jase's arm was around me," Zeke continued, "and the next thing we knew…"

We all filled in the blanks.

"Dude!" I exclaimed, incredulous. I looked to Ryan and his expression mirrored how I guessed mine looked; wide eyes and mouth open, gaping.

"Aw man!" Chad shook his head, his eyes closing. When he spoke next, his tone was a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "How the _hell _am I the only one who didn't wind up being gay?"

Recovering his voice, Ryan tentatively inquired, "Are you guys…?"

"…Boyfriends?" Jason offered.

"Something along those lines, yes. Are you?"

Again, Zeke and Jason looked to each other. I wonder if Ryan and I look the same when we turn to each other, conferring the answer before giving a definite response.

"We figured we'd just take things as they go," Zeke replied. "There's no rush, or anything."

Hearing the uncertainty in his voice, I chimed in, "No, of course not. We're young. We've got all the time in the world."

I didn't miss the look this comment put in Ryan's eyes or the sinking feeling that look had on my heart.

On his way out the front door, Chad relayed in a low voice, "No offense, man, but you look _bad_. When's the last time you slept?"

"Last night."

"Ate?"

"This morning, _mom_." I shook my head. "Look, man. I'll be alright." I lowered my voice, feeling something catch in my throat. "It's _Ryan_,I'm worried about."

"Hey, look. Why don't you do both Ryan and yourself a favor and come hang with us?" Chad nodded toward Zeke and Jason, who were waiting by a car that I assume belongs to Zeke. If Chad had finally gotten a car, I would have been one of the first people to know about it. "We're gonna go get a couple of drinks, maybe shoot some pool in Zeke's basement, or pick-up girls or whatever."

I rubbed at the back of my neck, finding the carpet under my feet really fascinating, all of the sudden.

"You could just knock some back and chill."

I shook my head. "Thanks, man. That sounds like a hell of a good time, but… I can't."

Chad shook his head exasperatedly. The look in his brown eyes was intense. It reminded me of the hard look he had given after the fight we had in front of the entire kitchen staff at Lava Springs, two summers before. The fight that the manager, Mr. Fulton, had to break-up before we were throwing more than words at each other. The fight that nearly cost us our friendship. "Troy, you can't keep letting this eat at you. Cut yourself a break. I don't see Ryan blaming you."

"Ryan _never _blames me. He never _blames _anyone."

Just like Ryan, Chad knows me more than I know myself. And he knew there was no point trying to reason with me when I wanted to punch myself repeatedly until I broke a rib, or maybe a knuckle. But that wouldn't have solved a damn thing. "Whatever." Before turning out the door, he whipped back around and stared directly into my eyes. "You just better promise me that as soon as Ryan is back to himself and doing his ridiculous jazz squares again, you'll let up on this self-loathing thing, okay?" He touched my chest to get my attention. "Promise."

I met his stare, sincerity blending with my overwhelming bitterness, causing my voice to crack. "Promise."

**A/N: Next chapter: a familiar face makes an unexpected reappearance. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: This chapter contains a scene of graphic content. If frolicking among the unicorns is not for you, turn back. **

Chapter 14

Ryan set aside his copy of Nicholas Sparks's _The Lucky One_. When he got the book, he told me he was reading it in order to compare it to the movie adaptation, so he could see which one would ultimately be better.

He had put reading it on a hiatus, informing me that the prose was, "too much to take in one sitting". I remember when I read the plot summary online, I'd laughed about it for at least two minutes.

That was last month. Before everything went to shit. Seeing Ryan resigned to reading that book without any witty commentary on how, "contrived", the romance was, and how, "stupid the main character [was] for deciding to _walk _across the country in search of a woman, when he wasn't even sure whether she was still alive", sort of felt like someone sticking my heart into a freezer.

"Troy," he said. The tiny action of saying my monosyllabic name was enough to make him wince. He reached for the pills on his nightstand, then after a second, retracted his hand without taking any.

"Yeah?"

"You've been cooped up in here with me for two days. Christmas is in three days. Why don't you go out and get some fresh air?"

"Ry…" I started.

He gently quieted my protest. "_Please_, Troy."

I dragged myself off of the foot of his bed and over to the door. My feet felt like lead weights.

Ryan gave me a soft smile that I did my best to return. The darkness in his eyes haunted me all the way down the stairs, and out the front door of his home.

As soon as I hit the pavement, though, I took off. I ran faster than I can remember moving, trying to shake my troubles like they were physically pursuing me. I tried to escape that memory of finding Ryan's small form crumpled on Chris Jeffers's kitchen floor. The bruises on Ryan's porcelain face, on his ribs. If I could have, I would have screamed to drown out the sound of Ryan's labored breaths that woke me up at night.

I ran until my lungs burned, until my legs felt numb from the waist down. I doubled over to catch my breath. The wintry chill in the air didn't help. I saw that I was standing outside of the parking lot of a JC Penney's. I thought of Charlotte's advice and felt my jeans. Sure enough, I had my wallet on me. There was at least eighty dollars inside, plus some spare change.

_Great_, I thought, a genuine smile on my face. _I'm willing to spend every last penny on Ryan._

-You Give Love A Bad Name-

I came out of the JC Penney's with two shopping bags in one hand. Sweating from the heat inside of the store had drenched the sweater I wore under my EHS Wildcats hoodie. As I was worrying about how my mom would get the stains out, and telling myself that I would need a shower before I got back into bed with Ryan, I lost track of where I was going.

I felt my body collide with a smaller form that stumbled back from the force of the impact.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed. I reached out to steady the definitely female body.

"It's alright, I-" She stopped dead.

So did I. I _knew _that voice; low, sweet, childish… "G_-Gabriella_?" I choked out.

Her dark curls had grown out a little, and her olive nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, but it was undeniably her. My heart now felt like someone had set the temperature of that freezer in the negatives.

"Troy?" The look in her brown eyes was unreadable.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, struggling to keep the hurt and bewilderment out of my voice.

"Christmas shopping," she answered, her voice tight. Her eyes flicked to the bags in my hand. "Same as you."

I swallowed what felt like a blade lodged into my throat. Part of me, a _huge _part of me, wanted to turn around and bolt as far away from her as possible. Some other part of knew this wasn't quite over yet.

A glint of silver at her throat caught my eye. _Is that _my_…? _"Are you still wearing my-?"

She moved to conceal the silver chain and T-pendant that I had bought with my allowance of three months for her, our junior year. Why the hell was she still wearing it? "You look _horrible_, Troy."

How many times was I going to hear that? And coming from her? "Gabriella, I don't think that's any of your business."

"Troy," I couldn't see so much as feel her moving closer, "if there's anything wrong, you know we can talk about it, right?"

I felt my legs shake. "Why do you still have that necklace?" I remembered the day I gave her that necklace. It was the last day of school of our junior year. I approached her at her locker, telling her I had something for her. I was the one who put it around her neck, fastening the clasp. Realizing what she now wore, she had turned to me.

"'_T_' _as in 'Troy'?_" I could hear her voice, soft, affectionate, inquire with slight disbelief. It was an echo of the past, a memory that felt like it had occurred years ago, like it belonged to someone else.

She looked at her feet. "That's none of your business." Her eyes moved back up to me. "You don't look very happy." She didn't add what I knew she was thinking: _You thought Ryan would be paradise on earth, a nirvana. You thought he would be better than me, but you were wrong._

"My happiness… isn't any concern to you." I hated the way my voice shook. Ryan empowered me. His words could soothe me and quell all my griefs and fears. He was an endless pool of tranquility, a refuge.

But, Gabriella… I felt like I had been leveled, like I had been stripped bare, and sapped of all my strength.

I remembered the feeling of her lips on mine, her petite body in my arms… the taste of her lipgloss…

My stomach churned violently. I could have spewed the french toast and sausage links Ryan's mom had made for breakfast, all over the sidewalk and Gabriella's fluffy brown and white snow boots.

"Troy," her voice dropped into that mixture of a coo and a whimper.

I couldn't meet her eyes. _She'll suck me in! _I told myself, terror digging into the icy numbness in my chest. _Just like a black hole…_

"I meant what I said over the phone the day of prom."

_She'll devour me_. I couldn't breathe.

"'I love you, Wildcat'," she quoted.

I recalled hearing a deep voice, on her end of the phone over the summer. _"Gabriella, how long will this take?"_

_ "Who is that?" _I had asked.

_"I don't know what you're talking about. You're crazy, Wildcat," _she had assured me with a laugh in her voice.

I was stupid enough to believe her.

_I love you, Wildcat._

"Did you?" Vehement disgust nearly overwhelmed me.

Her eyes gave away nothing, not confusion, not sympathy, and definitely _not_, "love".

I forced my voice to keep from cracking. "Well, then it's a damn good thing that I never said it back."

And, just like that, I was gone. I walked off, JC Penney's bags clasped tightly in my hand. If Gabriella called out to me, told me to wait, to stop, or that she, "loved" me, I didn't hear her.

It wouldn't have made a difference whether I did or not, anyway.

-All We Are-

Ryan was sound asleep when I got back. I figured he must have taken his pills, like a good boy, and they knocked him out.

A voice at the back of my mind told me that this would be a great opportunity to take Chad up on his offer. I could slip away while Ryan was tucked safely away in dreamland, and go have a few drinks. Yeah, that sounded _so good_. A few drinks to ease my nerves… to get my mind off of my hellish encounter with Gabriella. Maybe, a few drinks would become ten. And, after ten, I would end up completely shit-faced, and if I could still stand up without falling flat on my face, I'd probably wind up sneaking off with the first thing with two legs and a hole that approached me, and getting my rocks off like I hadn't in weeks.

_No_, one voice overpowered the one tempting me. NO. I walked over and took my place beside Ryan on the bed. I can't. I couldn't. _I won't._

"Troy?" Ryan's light voice startled me.

"Yeah?" I curled into him, worried that he had awoken in an Advil-induced haze. "I'm right here, baby."

His voice was surprisingly clear, calm. But, it lacked one thing. "Do you remember how, when we were graduating, all of us said that we wanted the rest of our lives to feel like a, 'high school musical'?"

"Yeah." I remembered, of course, but I wasn't quite following his train of thought.

"Well, in a musical," he went on, "someone like you; brave, strong, handsome, impulsive, but impossibly good-hearted… is the hero."

I felt warmth on my cheeks from his descriptions. "Ry, I'm no hero."

I could tell that he was smiling wistfully to himself by the way he spoke his next words. "You're wrong, Troy. You are a hero in every sense of the word. And, heroes like _you_, they usually wind up with the plucky, feisty girl." His even voice cracked. It took him a second to recover it. "I… I can't help but think that you would be so much _happier _with a girl, Troy." Finally, his voice broke. His next sentence was so close to a whisper. "You don't deserve what I've put you through."

That just about broke my heart. Gently, I turned Ryan to face me.

Tears rolled down the smooth curves of his cheeks.

"You're right," I said slowly. "Maybe if I was with a _girl_, I wouldn't have to deal with the bullshit, and the name calling. But, don't you ever think, for even one _minute_, that I would be happier with a girl, or anyone else." I stared right into his blue eyes. I laid myself bare to him. Every bit of me was exposed. "I love _you_, Ryan Evans. And, when I say that, I'm making a promise that I'm not going anywhere. I'm _here_, with_ you_. For better or worse."

Fresh tears glistened on the surface of his shining blue eyes.

Tenderly, I wiped away the ones working their way down his cheeks. A song came to me suddenly, one that I felt could deftly explain just what I meant.

_All night_, I sang softly

_Staring at the ceiling_

_ Counting the minutes_

_ I'm feeling _

_ This way_

_ So far away and so alone_

I gave Ryan a smile.

_But you know it's all right_

_ I came to my senses_

_ Let go _

_ Of my defenses_

_ There's no way_

_ I'm givin' up _

_ This time_

_ Yeah, you know _

_ I'm right here_

_ I'm not losin' you_

_ This time _

I let my volume build gradually from piano to mezzo piano.

_And I'm all in,_

_ Nothin' left to hide_

_ I've fallen _

_ Harder than a landslide_

_ I spent _

_ A week away from you,_

_ Last night_

_ And now I'm callin', _I ran my hand up his bare arm.

_Callin' out your name_

_ Even, if I _

_ Lose the game_

_ I'm all in_

_ I'm all in tonight_

_ Yeah, I'm all in_

_ I'm all in for life_

Something in Ryan had broken and fallen away. I could see it in his eyes. "How…" he stammered, his voice strained by barely withheld sobs, "how could you just _throw _your life away like that? On _me_?"

"I couldn't throw my life away," I replied. "Not when you are my life, Ryan." I could feel the truth of those words simultaneously liberating and binding me. And, that I was perfectly okay with that.

I ran my hand up his arm all the way to the inside of his short sleeves. I decided his skin was indubitably softer than the fabric.

Gradually, a smile worked its magic across his lips to mirror the smile on my face. This smile reached his eyes. His arm moved around my neck, his slender fingers combed through the hairs that came to about the first vertebrae on my spine. "I love you, Troy," he said. Ryan's eyes, illuminated by the joy in his smile, caressed my face. He nuzzled his nose against mine. "I love you _so much_…!"

"I love you, too, Ryan."

And, just like that our lips met, and they crashed together. We were kissing each other full on the mouth like we hadn't in over a week. Ryan didn't mind the sweat on my clothes or my body in the slightest. In fact, he rolled on top of me, straddling me with his strong legs and pelvis. His pale hands found their way under my sweater to stroke my abs, and rub the buds of my nipples between his fingers.

I arched back, ready to unleash a groan of pure gratification, but he silenced me with a kiss. When he broke off, pulling his tongue from my mouth, I covered his face in kisses and plunged my tongue into his mouth, desperate to taste him again. His warmth. His sweetness. _Him_. My mouth made its way over his jaw and down his neck, then back up to his lips. I was hungry for him with an intensity I thought I could never want another person.

Before breaking off, I bit lightly on his lower lip.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, panting as my cock strained against my boxers and blue jeans at the mere sight of him, his eyes dark with lust, eyelashes veiling them, his cheeks flushed. He was so hot. So _fucking _beautiful.

"Nothing hurts," he replied, his breath ghosting over my cheek, causing me to shiver with pleasure. He kissed my cheek so lovingly, then directed his attention to the tent I was pitching.

I didn't feel the removal of my jeans and boxers, but soon they were strewn across his bedroom floor, and my head was nestled into his pillows, my spine arching as my cock slid in and out of Ryan's extraordinarily wet, hot, multi-talented mouth. "Ry…." I groaned, "Oh, yes… _Yes_. Y-You're so damn…!"

I clutched frantically at the silky, feather-filled pillows surrounding me, like they were the pieces of me falling away with every flick of Ryan's tongue on my shaft.

"You like that?" He asked, his voice husky as he stroked softly around the base of my dick.

"Fuck…" I gasped. He continued stroking me, and then I felt his mouth take almost all of me in. It was too much. "Fuck, _yes_!" The coil that had been wound tight inside of me, released, and in a hot white explosion, so did I. I came _hard_. I have no idea what stopped me from screaming out my pleasure for all the world to hear.

After we cleaned up, Ryan kissed me tenderly and we cuddled together. "Thank you, Ryan," I told him, my voice far away.

"Don't mention it." He nuzzled into my cheek. "I love you, Troy."

Troy. Not, "Wildcat." Just, _Troy_.

"Love you, too, Ry… Forever…"

I fell asleep stroking his blond hair.

-Fabulous-

I woke up to find Ryan laying on his side, smiling serenely at me. "Hey there, Captain Sunshine."

"Hey." I stretched languidly.

"Did you sleep well?"

I turned to fully face him. The guilt, the weariness, the weight of everything was _gone_. "Yeah," I replied. "I really did."

"Good." He brushed aside some of my bangs. He took my face in, the look in his eyes melting my insides. Ryan dragged a caressing finger over the now very faint scar on my eyebrow I had gotten from that fight with that asshole who tried to assault Ryan over the summer.

The bruises on his face were fading too. I finally started realizing that he was healing, that _we _were recovering. And soon, everything would be okay again. Cody would be gone, and with him out of the way, I could devote my time to helping Ryan become the star he deserves to be. It was so perfect.

"I know it's a _horribly _cliched thing to say, but you look so unworldly when you sleep," he said, his voice once more light, level, and clear. "I-It takes my breath away." He combed through my hair again before retracting his hand.

My heart was goo. It had melted into goo. "Aww, Ryan…" I laid a hand on his smooth, unblemished cheek. "You make fun of _ me_?" I teased him.

He made a mock scoffing noise, his mouth dropping open. We both laughed together.

"I love you," I told him, two-hundred percent serious.

"I love you, too."

My eyes locking on his, I moved in, capturing his lips with my own. He hummed contentedly against my mouth, and my eyes fluttered closed.

As we slowly pulled apart, we were yanked away from each other by the sound of Ryans's door flying open.

"_Ryan_!" A delighted female voice squealed.

"Shar!" Ry's face lit up, and I couldn't help the enthusiastic grin that spread across my face.

Sharpay stood in the doorway, dressed, as always, in a blouse, skirt, and leggings right out of the pages of _Vogue Magazine_. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled into tight curls. "Troy," she directed a smile my way.

It was then that I remembered that I was naked from the waist down. "Uh, hi, Sharpay,"I said nervously, instantly self-conscious, like she could see right through the blankets, or something. I shot Ryan a look of apprehension.

Ryan started to say something, but it was too late. Sharpay was already scooting him aside to make room for herself on the bed.

"Daddy told me all about how that awful miscreant broke your ribs."

"Yeah." Ryan shifted awkwardly.

Realizing that the subject bothered him, I quickly changed the topic. "So, uh, how have you been, Sharpay?"

She took well to the topic transitioning to herself. "I've been _fabulous_, as always. The girls and I just got back from a two day shopping trip."

I looked back to Ryan, utterly baffled.

He nodded to confirm his sister's ludicrous statement. Ryan informed me before that Sharpay had two sets of, "girls". At Lava Springs, she had Emma, Jackie and Lea, a.k.a., "The Sharpettes". The other months of the year, when she's at home, she had Lupe, Tiffani and Dina to have slumber parties and do, "girl stuff", with.

"And, you'll never guess who we ran into," Sharpay went on.

"Who did you, "run into"?" Ryan inquired.

"That _weird _kid who calls himself, "The Rocket", and _reeks_ like a toxic spill." She tilted her head in thought. "Or at least, he _did."_

Ryan and I turned to each other. I tried to ignore the way his silk sheets felt against my bare ass, and focus on the fact that Sharpay ran into _Jimmie_. _Jimmie_, who Ryan told me made a, "grand entrance", as my understudy in the senior year spring musical; "He grabbed a random assortment of costumes from my dressing room and just threw them on. He jumped out dressed like Elton John!"

"Even though he nearly _ruined _my final show at East High, I was filled with the charitable nature of Christmas spirit," Sharpay continued.

I couldn't resist shooting Ryan a look of amusement.

He subtly returned it, so his sister wouldn't notice, and reprimand both of us.

"I bought him a new brand of cologne." Sharpay smiled, satisfied with meeting her Samaritan quota for the holidays.

"I'm sure he appreciated that," I inputed, thinking of "Rocketman"'s major crush on Sharpay.

"He was almost _too _appreciative." She crinkled her nose. "He practically _jumped _on me like some over-sized, overzealous _puppy_. I had to have the girls help fend him off."

"Well, don't worry about it." Ryan patted his sister's back consolingly. "I'm sure you won't be running into him again."

"Says my brother who might as well live in another world. It's been nearly four months. You have to have performed at Radio City Music Hall _and _Madison Square Garden by now."

Ryan's gaze fell to the sheets.

I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Well?" Sharpay looked at us, her brows furrowing, expecting a response. Something.

"There was a bit of a delay," Ryan murmured.

"But, that's all," I jumped in, my voice strong and filled with conviction, hoping that Ryan would believe me, too. "This is just a detour. A pit stop."

Sharpay nodded, smiling slightly. "Troy, I _knew _you were perfect." She leaned over Ryan and into me. Her brown eyes stared into my blue eyes, her stare somehow a mixture of critical, sultry, and a hint of something close to sadness. A wistfulness that was barely there, like it hardly existed anymore. When she spoke again, her voice was lowered, as if she only wanted me to hear what she had to say. "And even though I'll always regret letting you slip through my fingers…" She dragged a finger down my chest.

I flinched away from her touch.

"…Maybe, you're just what Ryan needs." Her lips curled into a smile and she moved away.

I was relieved, both by her approval, and by the fact that she seemed to have finally laid her obsession with me to rest. That she wasn't creepily touching me, anymore, was a plus. "I give everything I have to try and be that person." I nodded slightly. My eyes went to Ryan, not missing his look of pointed irritation at his sister's nearness to me and her, "seductive", finger drag. The look I gave him was enough to reassure him.

"Hopefully, someday, you'll find someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated, a "forever" of your own." Ryan said to his sister.

"Hopefully," she echoed. She paused for a moment, then her face brightened. "So… who's up for a threesome?" She leaned into Ryan, playfully tracing his breastbone through his shirt.

Flushing, Ryan, just as playfully, shoved her off the bed. "Get out of here!"

"I was only kidding!" She protested from the floor.

I gave Ryan a look of gratitude, smiling in relief.

**A/N: I own nothing featured except the plot. The song "All In" belongs to the band Lifehouse. **

**Next Chapter: Holiday fun. **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it? Writing this chapter did not come easily to me, but watching "Sharpay's Fabulous Adventure" reminds me that I have to write this. No one gets fame handed to them. They have to EARN it, and unlike his sister, that's what Ryan has to do. **

** I'd like to give a shout out to xBroken-Glassx and passion56321, who have been my loyal and constant reviewers through out this story. Thank you for hanging with me this far. I appreciate it more than I can say and only hope you'll be with me the rest of the ride. And if you guys are looking for more dark twists on the sunny world of HSM, I **_highly _**recommend "Blood Will Out", by Typewriter44. **

** Now, I shall shut my yap and get back to what you've all been waiting for. **

**Disclaimer: In spite of my intense longing to own these characters, I still do not. The only things that I can say I own here are the plot, and this story itself, which I've slaved away to perfect. Disney still has the copyrights to everything "High School Musical" related.**

**Warnings: Gayness to rival that which resides somewhere over the rainbow and a scene of passionate love-making. If this just spoils your creme-brulee, then go ahead and "Stick To The Status Quo". **

Chapter 15

On Christmas day, I awarded Ry the gift card and a special fedora. It wasn't one of the ones I'd seen him pining over while shopping in New York, but I hoped that my handiwork would give it some intrinsic sentimental value.

After he bestowed his presents on his parents and sister: a blouse and pearl necklace for his mother, a new set of golf clubs for his father, and an expensive sundress with a matching hat for his sister, I managed to get him alone to give him my gifts before I had to head off to spend some time with my parents.

Once he was seated neatly and patiently on his bed, I told him, "Close your eyes."

He did with a zealous smile.

Mrs. Evans had really gone all out with her holiday decorating. The outside of the mansion could be seen from miles away thanks to the multicolored lights strung up on the gutters. The inside easily beat out a store's Christmas display with plenty of tinsel, garland, mistletoe, and of course, a tricked out evergreen tree that everyone did their part to help decorate, even Sharpay. While I was helping my mom with her decorating, and shooting hoops with my dad and Chad, Ry really got into the Christmas spirit and decorated his room with garland and glittering, fluffy, fake snow. There were plenty of snow globes, toy penguins and polar bears and various candy canes set up that made his room every bit a winter wonderland.

Mr. Evans had been so proud to come out of his office and see the fantastic results of his wife and son's holiday decorating.

I was both wowed by the decor and incredibly happy to see Ryan with his old spark rekindled.

I handed him the first gift, a slim envelope.

He opened it with an imploring stare. He slowly pulled out the Penney's gift card.

"I thought," I said, "by getting you that, we could go shopping together."

Ryan smiled softly. "That is so you."

"Well, actually, Charlotte gave me the idea."

The smile didn't leave his face. He simply nodded knowingly. "That doesn't surprise me at all."

I returned his smile, toying with the final gift in its package behind my back. "Yeah. Charlotte's a really good person."

"The majority of the people we met are."

I nodded, agreeing with that assessment absolutely. "I do have one more gift to give you, Ry," I added.

He blinked and took the package I extended to him. Silently, I watched as he adroitly opened it. His reaction to the contents was _stunning_. If there was ever a real "Kodak moment" in my life up to that point, that was probably it. Ryan removed a fedora colored in all shades, a spectrum of vibrant blues. As he inspected it, he slowly raised a hand to his mouth. He looked to me, his eyes stretched wide and glowing.

He had found my personal addition to the hat's fabric. I explained, "Being an only child, my mom and dad divided the time they spent with me. While my dad was teaching me how to dribble, my mom was teaching me how to sew. She said she was doing my future spouse a favor."

Ry stood up and moved into me. "It's _wonderful_, more than I ever could have asked for." Clutching the fedora that had my signature stitched into it in red thread in one hand, he wrapped his other arm around my neck in an embrace. "I love it. Thank you so much." His voice cracked a little. He nuzzled against my neck.

I felt tingles of bliss go down my spine.

Pulling away after a moment, Ryan informed me, "I have gifts for you, too." He walked over to his walk-in closet and stowed his new hat safely away, then removed a blue garment safely enclosed in that protective plastic covering. Holding it by the hanger, he handed it over to me. At his encouraging nod, I peeled open the plastic and removed a blue vinyl windbreaker.

"Holy…!" I gasped. Turning the jacket to its backside, I took in the Berkeley Knights logo that decorated the space. "Ryan…" I was speechless. My jaw dropped open. "Baby, this is…!" Letting out a laugh, I moved in and took him into a tight hug. "Thank you. _Thank you_!"

"Don't mention it." Ryan's hands rubbed over my back. A million-dollar smile was stretched wide on his face. He withdrew from the embrace gently and returned to the closet.

"There's more?" I asked, feeling like my floored grin could split my face. I started jerking my knees, ready to begin jumping up and down with excitement. Christmas has always been one of my absolute favorite holidays, because of the "peace on earth", "good will toward men and animals", and of course, the giving gifts to your friends and loved ones.

Seeing Ry's heartfelt response to my presents for him, and waiting to see what else he had for me, sort of made me feel like a little kid, getting up early to see gift boxes covering the floor around the tree on Christmas morning and my parents standing by to watch me tear into them, shooting each other loving looks while they did so, again.

Ry held out a shrink-wrapped frame decorated with the Wildcat mascot logo, and familiar red and white lettering associated with East High. I draped my new jacket over the back of his desk chair and then took the picture carefully into my hands to get a closer look. The picture inside the frame was a photo that I remember had been taken by our drama teacher, Ms. Darbus. It hadn't been published in the yearbook. The picture itself was a candid of Ryan directing me through some bit of choreography during rehearsals for the spring musical. With our eyes locked, the two of us were in our own private bubble. Gabriella stood, fixed at my side, her hand in mine. A warm, enthusiastic smile was plastered on her face. It was from before she moved to California to attend Stanford, before she left me behind her. Before I saw her for what she really is.

Ry's voice, soft and gentle, broke into my thoughts."Do you like it? I-I meant to give it you as a graduation present, but… my nerves." He chuckled warily.

"I do." I replied.

He moved into me and I slung an arm around his waist, drawing him in closer. "Are you sure? It… doesn't bother you, does it?"

After Sharpay had left Ryan's room the day of my excursion, I filled Ry in on my encounter with Gabriella. He had sat bolt upright, his eyes narrowing, demanding to know what she did to me.

"Nothing, really," I had replied.

His sky blue eyes then searched my face. "She didn't reopen any old wounds?"

"She doesn't have that power over me anymore." I remember saying.

"No," I answered Ry's present inquiry.

Ms. Darbus had explained to us once we saw the flash go off and realized a picture had been taken that day so long ago; "Candid photographs are the very essence of artistic expression in photography. When one is unaware of the lens, they reveal their true self to the camera."

"Thank you, Ryan." Tilting his red fedora out of the way, I kissed him on the temple.

"You don't have to thank me." He turned and placed a tender kiss on my jawline. "You know if I could, I would give you the universe if you asked for it."

"I know." I gave him a smile, my eyes falling to his lips.

Reading me like few other people can, he pushed forward on his toes and pressed his lips to mine.

I wrapped my arms around him in his sparkling snowflake dress shirt, and deepened the mouth contact.

When we finally broke off, he said, his eyes glowing, "Merry Christmas, Troy. _Joyeux Noel, mon amor_."

I nuzzled against him, joy swelling in me at the smile on his face. "Merry Christmas, Ryan."

-That's What Friends Are For-

Mr. and Mrs. Danforth greeted me with a slap on the back and a hug respectively. They were ecstatic to see me again and it was good to see them after so long away. That, and they knew full well what I planned to do, after I nursed my stinging back, of course.

"He's in his room, honey," Mrs. Danforth confided.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Good luck. You'll need it," Mr. Danforth advised me.

Setting my face, I made my way to Chad's room. The door was open, so I stepped into the doorway. "'Sup, man."

Chad leapt to his feet from his computer desk. "Yo, hoops." He reached me and we did our signature handshake. His security basketball was tucked under his arm. "We playin' today?"

"Not exactly." Taking hold of his upper arms, I steered him back to the computer.

He could tell that I was about to execute one of my crazy plans. "Whoa!" He protested. "Wait up! What are you doing?"

"_We _are going to win you back your girlfriend."

"Come on, man. Taylor's way too sensible to fall for your "Troy Bolton" charm."

"But she can't resist a piece of Chad Danforth." I replied, pushing him back into the desk chair.

Chad couldn't help but smile at that remark. "Okay, so yeah, I make Taylor's heart flutter and her ovaries go into overload." His smile fell. "Big deal, that doesn't mean that she'll take me back." His dismay was obvious. I could see that, despite what he was saying, he was already signing into the chat room. "She's got _huge _dreams, Troy. I don't wanna keep her from achieving them."

It sounded like he was trying to dissuade not only me, but himself. And I wouldn't have that. "You won't." I promised. "I know you better than that, man."

His brown eyes were still unsure.

I knew I could get through to him, however. "Just let me talk to her."

It was just enough. Shaking his head, Chad acquiesced. "Okay."

Taylor's familiar face appeared in the view window. Her hair was still styled into a sleek bob, like it had been our senior year, only it had grown out over the months since I last saw her. "Troy," she said smoothly. If she was surprised at all, she didn't show it."

"Hey, Taylor. How have you been?'

"Fine, and you?"

"Great." I said, fondly recalling Ry's re-ignited spark and the way his lips tasted. "Well," I added slowly, thoughtfully, "there is _one _thing nagging at me."

She raised an eyebrow imploringly. "Yes?"

"You see this guy right here?" I brought my hands down on Chad's shoulders. "He is absolutely crazy about you, okay? His mom told me that he's skipped out on dinner everyday for a week."

Taylor looked at me intently, maintaining her composure. I didn't miss her eyes widening for an instant, though.

"He needs you back in his life," I went on, my voice teeming with sincerity. "I've known Chad since preschool, and I've never seen him this hung up over any girl… except you."

She averted her eyes, possibly staring down at the keyboard, or her notes for some big exam. There was a light blush on her cheeks. After a moment, she spoke up, "Troy, while I admire and appreciate Chad's dedication and your loyalty, I-"

"Tay," Chad said softly.

Not seeming to mind the interruption, Taylor raised her eyes to him.

"I might have been a hulking neanderthal of the Cretaceous period, or whatever, in high school. Okay, I get that. But, lunkheaded cavemen did evolve, because they had smart, sassy cavewomen at their sides. "

On screen, a small smile tugged at Taylor's lips.

Encouraged, Chad went on, lowering his voice, letting it take on an affectionate tone I had never heard before. He must have saved it for her ears alone. "And, Taylor, this lunkheaded, ball-dribbling caveman needs his intelligent, fierce, and sexy cavewoman back." He punctuated his sentence with an earnest smile, his brown eyes almost pleading under his busy 'fro.

"Chad Danforth." Taylor shook her head incredulously, her glistening eyes and smile taking away the composure she had successfully managed to keep until then.

I smiled as well, overjoyed that things seemed to have worked out.

"Taylor!" A girl called off screen. "Taylor, come on! We don't want to be late for the meeting."

Taylor jolted like she was coming out of a trance. "I'll be there in a second, Naomi!" She turned back to us. "I've got to go."

"Hey." Chad fixed her in a tender stare. "I'll come see you."

"When?' Taylor inquired.

"That's half the fun." He grinned. "Just keep your eyes open and be expecting me, okay?"

"Okay." Taylor nodded, her brown eyes shining. We could see her gather herself then hurriedly collecting a stack of probably perfectly systematically organized papers. "I'll hold you to that, Mr. Danforth." She gave her best serious and imposing front.

I could tell that Chad knew her in a way that I never would. Where I would have been terrified to be on the receiving end of a girl's "instant laser death stare", as Chad had dubbed it, my best friend just let out a slight laugh.

"Count on me," he assured her with a wink. It seemed like that was enough to quell all of her doubts.

With another affectionate head shake, Taylor said, "See you after class," and shut off her webcam.

Chad looked to me, his face alight.

"What did I tell you?" I asked, grinning broadly.

"You sure showed me, Captain." He gave me a punch on the shoulder, a large smile on his face.

I mussed up his awesome hair.

-_Parle Vous Francais-_

After a long day of playing basketball with my dad and the guys, just like old times, I was looking forward to spending a quiet evening with Ryan in my bedroom.

My mom made up two batches of Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies. I thanked her with a kiss on the cheek and snagged a couple for Ryan and me.

"These are great, mom," I remarked, biting into the still warm and soft cookie. The chocolate wasn't all melty, like what they show on the commercials, but the cookies were every bit as delicious in spite of that.

"_C'est magnifique_, Mrs. Bolton!" Ry said, his eyes glowing like the cookies contained magic.

"_Merci beaucoup_, Ryan," My mom replied with a smile.

I looked on in awe.

"Troy," Mom said, "_tu non parles français_?"

"_Pardon_?"

Ryan let out a giggle.

I shared a mystified look with my dad before he moved in, wrapping his arms around my mom. "Come on, Lucille. So Troy doesn't know French." Dad gave mom a mischievous grin. "We Bolton men are still fluent in the "language of love", isn't that right, Troy?"

Mom smiled, rolling her eyes in a bemused and affectionate way.

I turned and caught Ryan's eye, shooting him a grin with a slight waggle of my eyebrows.

When he smiled back, I looked to my dad and replied, "Sure thing, dad."

-The Great Escape-

Ryan stood behind me, radiating that usual calm as I silently surveyed my room. They were everywhere, pictures of me and Gabriella; on my shelves, my nightstand. They were reminders of another time, a relationship that was nothing but a lie on her part. She could keep that damn necklace if she wanted to. I just wanted to move on and start my life with Ryan.

So there was one thing we had to do. "Ry, could I have your help with something?" I inquired.

"Of course," he answered softly.

I walked toward my nightstand and picked up the framed picture of Gabriella in her powdered blue sweater posing in East High's cafeteria. I had taken that picture. Other than the picture of her at that ski resort in Colorado on my cellphone, it was the first one I ever took of her. I'd take care of my cell later.

Ryan looked on intently as I pulled the cardboard backing off of the frame and carefully removed the photograph.

Understanding in a way only Ryan could, he followed my lead. Together, the two of us collected every photo of me and Gabriella that had been taken in the last two years of our high school career, and put on display in my bedroom. We gathered them up and, with a nod toward the door from me, made our way outside.

Although the little bit of snow had melted overnight, the ground was still frozen and crunched under our feet. I lead Ry to the brick enclosed fire pit behind the garage. After watching me, he placed the photos he had been holding into the pit. I walked around and into the garage and rummaged around until I finally found what I was looking for.

Rejoining Ry, I picked up the picture of Gabriella in her blue sweater. I took in her dark curls, olive skin and chocolate brown eyes one last time, then flicked the switch on the lighter for the grill. I watched flames slowly creep over the picture, curling and blackening its edges. The colors were distorted when I tossed it on top of the pile. The fire soon spread, engulfing the other pictures; our first date, the two of us at school dances…

I looked on, entranced as the hungry flames consumed all tangible evidence of my first relationship. A hand closed around mine. Turning, I looked into Ryan's eyes and saw the tenderness and support both there and in his soft smile.

My heart moved by this, I returned the smile and gave his hand a squeeze.

_Throw it away_, he sang softly in his sweet alto-tenor.

_Forget yesterday_

I raised my voice to join his, letting them intertwine. _We'll make the_

_ Great escape_

_ We won't hear a word_

_ They say_, I sang, stepping into him and taking hold of his other hand.

_They don't know us_

_ Anyway _Ry held my hands tightly. He arched back in a fluid motion, then returned. He gazed deeply into my eyes. The fire cast an unearthly orange glow on his pale skin and caused his eyes to take on a strange green tint, but he was still so beautiful and I loved him _so much_. Together, we moved out and away from the fire pit. We twirled, Ryan spinning lightly on his agile, graceful feet.

_Watch it burn_, we sang together.

_Let it die_

_ 'Cause we are finally free_

On "free", Ryan stopped mid-turn and pushed forward on his toes, jumping up to twine his arms around my neck and briefly wrap his legs around my waist.

I held him in place, brushing my nose against his before smiling into his eyes.

_Today_

He came slowly back to earth and we knew in our hearts that it was true. We had finally broken free.

-Living On A Prayer-

"Hey, thanks for the ride!" I called out to Mrs. Danforth.

"You're welcome, hon," she replied from her blue Hyundai Sonata. She had given me a lift to Ryan's after I spent most of the day skateboarding in the driveway and playing basketball and video games with Chad. Mrs. Danforth had been cool enough to make us sandwiches for lunch before we went back to playing one of those fighting games. Well, we did go back to playing it, until Chad's younger sister Shenelle and little brother Jamar demanded a turn on "Mario Party". At that point, we sort of had no choice but to relinquish the game and take it outside.

"Hey, give me a call." Chad hollered from the passenger seat.

"Will do, buddy!" I gave him a wave before turning back to the door. I stared at my reflection in the polished silver door knob. Noticing a few strands of hair sticking up, I smoothed them back into place. I raised my hand, ready to knock, only for the door to come open. One of the butlers, an older man with dark, neatly slicked hair stood there.

He studied me with knowledgeable brown eyes before reporting calmly, "Mr. Bolton, Young Master Evans has been expecting you."

"Uh, thank you." I gave him a nod. He moved aside to let me enter. As I looked around for Ryan, I heard the sound of several low, resonating notes being played on a piano. Where the piano was, Ryan would be. I followed the melody to the music room.

Peering in, I found my beautiful boyfriend seated at a shiny black grand piano, his brows furrowed in concentration as his fingers glided over the keys. I couldn't quite recognize the melody, but I stood there patiently for a moment, listening to the music he seemed to make effortlessly. He played out a tinkling melody on the higher notes with his right hand, and underscored them with the deep notes with his left. An idea came to me and I slunk in as discreetly as possible.

While Ry was immersed in playing, I joined him at the piano and pressed down on a key at the far left. A deep note sounded out, absolutely ruining the melody he had been perfecting.

He glanced up and immediately spotted the perpetrator. "Hey, you."

"Hey," I returned. "It looks like someone has been working hard."

"Eh, just messing around." He stroked a key with the index finger of his right hand.

"That was pretty damn good for "just messing around"." I raised an eyebrow.

He turned away, smiling in good humor.

I scooted in closer to him on the bench, playfully hitting a few more keys.

Ryan turned back to me, his eyes sparkling. "I want to show you something. I was working on it while you were enjoying your day out."

"Okay," I said, his excitement contagious. I nodded invitingly to him.

With a small, contained smile, he arched his hands up and began playing some notes on my end. This time, the melody was familiar. It built up into something even more recognizable. I _knew _that freaking song. His lovely hands found the notes without any hesitation or problems that I could pick up on, just like a true, gifted, professional. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched me, gauging my reaction.

Finally, it hit me. My entire face must have shown it, because Ryan flashed that heart-melting smile. He encouraged me with a slight nod.

I began singing along; _She says_

_ We gotta hold on_

_ To what we got_

_ It doesn't make a difference_

_ If we make it or not_

I looked into his eyes. _We've got each other_

_ And that's a lot_

_ For love,_

_ We'll give it a shot_

I remembered that day in my treehouse when the two of us had belted this song out, singing our hearts out and dancing around just to amuse each other. We were just kids then. Kids who wanted to have fun and not worry about the fast-approaching future.

Now, the future was here. And we weren't kids anymore. Somehow, the silly song had gained so much more meaning.

We both knew it.

Looking into my eyes, Ry lifted his better refined voice and joined it with mine, again, easily reaching the high notes.

_Ohh,_

_ We're half way there_

_ Whoa,_

_ Living on a prayer!_

_ Take my hand,_

_ We'll make it, I swear_, we promised each other.

_Whoa,_

_ Living on a prayer_

Ryan finished playing out the chorus and then closed the song off, bringing his hands to a rest on the keys. I laid my hand over top of his. Between the new significance of the song and just _Ryan_, my chest was heavy with desire.

"Ryan," I said.

He turned to me, his lashes veiling his eyes in that incredibly hot way. He must have felt it, too. He inched in at a painstakingly slow pace until I could feel his breath on my neck.

I inhaled sharply.

"No one else is here, you know," he informed me.

"Yeah?" I brushed my lips over his earlobe, shivering with arousal.

"Yeah." He craned his slender creamy neck and pressed a kiss to my neck.

I felt my nipples and a certain other incredibly important muscle harden. That important muscle gave a twinge of need.

His nose brushed against my jaw, nuzzling up to my ear.

Biting down on a grunt, I ran my hand down his body, my thumbs flicking over his clothed nipples.

He gasped against my ear. "_Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?_" He breathed. I felt another sharp ache from between my legs. That question was mesmerizing, titillating.

It needed no translation. "_Oui_." I growled. I pulled him into me, grinding my hard-on into his. "Hell. _Yes_." Our lips met, teeth gnashing together as we kissed furiously, our tongues entwining.

-I Belong To You-

It had been too long. I wasn't even aware of how long it had been until I had him nude underneath me, pinned against his silk sheets by my own naked body. I took him in, noticing with relish that that hideous yellow, green, and purple bruise on his otherwise flawless creamy skin had nearly faded completely.

Leaning in, I pressed a kiss to his collarbone, his breast bone. He responded with soft gasps. I felt his slender fingers running through my hair as I went lower, my tongue dipping into his navel, my fingers stroking over his evident pelvis bone.

"Troy… it's _insane _how badly I've missed this."

"Me too, Ry. Me too." I rubbed my abdomen against his upright, big, wonderful cock, loving the sound it drew out of his musical mouth. "You do things to me, baby," I expressed, grunting at the feeling of him against me. "Things that no one else has ever done. That I don't _want _anyone else to do."

"Mmm…!" He bit down on his lower lip, clinging to my arm, his well-groomed fingernails digging into my skin in a way that only turned me on that much more.

"You're my everything, Ry. My _everything_." I kissed my way back up his body, making sure to leave my mark on his creamy throat. The skin was hot and flushed to the touch of my tongue and lips.

He squirmed under me, emitting a blissful whimper. "Oh, _Troy_…"

"I'd have nothing without you, baby. Nothing," I told him as I traced the back of his smooth thighs with my fingertips.

"Troy…!" He groaned.

"I love you. Love you _so much_."

"I love you, too," he panted. "My universe revolves around _you_." My hands found their way back up to his cock and traced the base of it. This drove him _mad_. His legs started quivering. "Ohhh, _Troooy_!"

The emphasis on my name shot straight to my cock. "Fuck!" I cried out. "I want you _sooo _bad!" My voice practically broke. I had to battle with my hips not to start pounding that sweet ass like my life was dependent on it.

He pulled me down so that we were level. His lust darkened eyes locked onto mine.

My entire body was stricken by such intense _need_, I saw stars.

"Then take me, _lover boy_. Take everything I have." He growled, his voice making my insides twist with arousal. "_Fuck_. _Me_. Troy. I'm _yours_."

I couldn't disobey. I'd never forgive myself. My dick would never forgive me. I slid into him. His tight heat was so wonderful, just like I remembered.

We unleashed wild groans, not having to worry about being overheard.

He clenched my shoulder blades, bringing me closer, arching up to meet my thrusts. "Yes!" he yelped. "_Troy_! Oh!"

"Ry! Ryan, _fuck!_" I moaned. I thrusted into him, hearing the frame of the bed squeak from the power of our movements. His plump ass smacked against my thighs.

"Troy! Troy… You're so beautiful. And _perfect_," he lavished me in praise, his gifted fingers roaming over my chest, tweaking my nipples.

I arched back, letting out a groan of pure pleasure. "Ohh! Ry… so _good_, baby…"

We fell into a rhythm, our thrusts perfectly timed. I felt my pleasure building, building, building, just like the climax of a song. A song written by Ryan. Ryan.

"Ryan! Ry-_aah_!"

He bit down on his lower lip. "Troy…_nn_." His voice was deep, throaty. My God, it was so… "Mm, _yes_! Aah!"

My thrusts became more erratic, more fevered as heat gathered at the tip of my cock head. The squeaking of the bed frame and our groans got louder. "Babe, I-!" I started. "I'm going to-! _Ohh_, God. _Fuck. Fuck!_" I exploded, shooting off my load into that perfect ass and onto his pale delicate stomach. A throaty cry of ultimate bliss escaped my throat.

Ry continued to ride me, twisting his hips every-which-way to bring himself to climax. Until. Suddenly, he stiffened. I knew what was coming. "Oh! Oh, Troy. _Troy! _Fuuuck." He clenched tight around me, his legs wrapping about my waist. Then, I felt his hot cum on my chest. It was sort of magical and crazy how good it all felt.

As he relaxed, the tension leaving him with his release, I buckled on top of him, not bothering to pull out.

He groaned softly, nuzzling into my neck. "Oh, Troy," he purred. "I _love _you, baby."

"Love you too, babe."

He stroked through my sweat-damp hair.

We sighed simultaneously. I was going to settle in and let myself drift off to sleep. I realized, however, that the stickiness was probably bothering the hell out of him. I stumbled drowsily to my feet and got a washcloth out of the bathroom across the hall.

He gave small murmurs of contentment as I cleaned him off. I wiped myself down, then carelessly threw the damp cloth on the floor. Ry shot me a half-hearted glare in protest, but was too dopey with satisfaction to do anything vocally about it. "Thank you," he said.

"No problem." I crawled into the bed, plopping down beside him. He snuggled into my bare chest and I wrapped my arms around him, happily inhaling his familiar scent. This, _this_ was nirvana for me; Ryan, my Ryan, snuggled safely in my arms, our naked bodies entangled after making love. Yeah. I was definitely in my happy place.

Ry traced my breastbone. "Can you believe that only five months ago, we were _virgins_? And now, look at us," he mused incredulously. "Look at_ you_." He shifted to meet my eyes, his mouth curled up in amusement. "You legitimately became the sex god nearly every girl at East High envisioned you to be."

I felt my face heat up. "I'm no "sex god", Ry," I protested modestly. "I just try to be good at pleasing you."

"You are," he assured me, kissing my cheek, my neck and my chest. He looked up into my eyes, letting me see the honesty in his face. "My body, and my heart sing for you."

If I ever had any doubts in my skills at love-making, they vanished instantly upon hearing that. A dopey smile stretched over my face as my heart filled with elation. A thought occurred to me, and my expression must have made it obvious. I could see Ryan's brows knitting together in inquiry. I figured that I might as well spit what I had to say out. "You know, the closest I got to second base before you was eating chocolate-covered strawberries with Gabriella on her bedroom floor." I felt like an idiot as soon as those words left my mouth.

Ry peered curiously at me, one of his eyebrows arced. "Really?'

_Damn it! Why did I have to say that_? _Oh, way to kill the mood, Bolton! _"Yeah," I replied sheepishly. I half-expected him to be angry with me, or upset that I brought that up like the stupid-ass I was. Of course, the other half of me knew him better than that.

"Chocolate-covered strawberries." His expression became pensive. "The connotations."

"What?" I asked with a slight laugh of relief.

"It's nothing." He brushed the comment aside with a flick of his wrist. The smile fell from his face. "Well, actually… I hope you won't be mad, but," his eyes grew troubled, "after the "infamous" softball game…"

By "infamous", he meant the softball game at Lava Springs that I had missed out on because I was being a prick in Italian shoes, and chose to play a game of basketball with the U of A Red Hawks instead of joining my friends. As a result, a stupid misunderstanding arose from me having my head up my ass and thinking Gabriella was cheating on me with a certain blond boy who was obviously queer as a three dollar bill.

"Chad and I switched shirts and hats," Ryan continued. "I flirted with him a little before that, but nothing happened."

He sounded _ashamed_.

"All of us had hot dogs after that, and I believe that was when I developed my aversion to red meat," he went on. "I threw the half of the hot dog I had eaten up, before I went to bed."

I made a face, then shook my reaction to the "vomit news" off. "Ry," I began with a slight, gentle laugh to my voice, "that's just _Chad_. That's how he introduces someone to the awesome world of his friendship. You wouldn't even _believe_ how many times he and I traded shirts growing up." I thought of something else. "That, and he probably like what you were wearing and just didn't want to say so."

Ry searched my face, relief showing in his features. "Oh my gosh…" he murmured after a moment. He shook his head, letting out a chuckle that was contagious. As I joined in and laughed with him, the volume of our combined laughter steadily rose. We laughed for a good couple of minutes over our own weirdness and who knows what else until finally, we needed to breathe.

We paused to take a breathe and our eyes met. Ry nuzzled his pale nose into the tanned skin of my neck and cheek. "I'm really, _really _glad you were my first, Troy. I always hoped you would take me one day."

The emotion in his eyes and voice nearly overwhelmed me. "Oh, Ryan." I moved down, touching my nose to his. "I wouldn't want either one of us to ever belong to anyone else."

"You're mine for as long as you want to be. And I belong to you," Ryan agreed. His eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his lips to mine, kissing at my top and bottom lips. I ran a hand up and down his side, then through his short, silky, golden blond hair. My tongue flicked over his luscious candy lips and he parted them only to slip his tongue into my mouth. As that extraordinarily talented pink muscle scraped over my own and my teeth, I grunted euphorically, pulling his slender, petite body against mine once again.

**A/N: The song, "Living On A Prayer" belongs to Bon Jovi. This was a lengthy one, but I hope it more than makes up for my extended absence.**

**Next Chapter: Troy and Ryan make their triumphant return to the Big Apple. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: My **_sincerest _**apologies for not updating sooner. I've been letting the pressures of life get me down lately, and it kept me from finishing this chapter. I promise that I won't let such a thing deter me again. I hate keeping you guys waiting when I know you're all anxious to see how Troy and Ryan's story plays out. **

**I'd like to take this time to announce that I'm nearly finished with this story. It's sad, I know. It's been an incredible experience for me, taking up the challenge of writing this, and I've received nothing but support from my readers, which I appreciate beyond measure. I'd say there will be two more chapters, and then the epilogue. Never fear, though. Troy and Ryan's life story is far from over, so expect to sequels sometime in the future. **

**Now that that is out of the way, it's time to get to what you've all been waiting for! Onward!**

** Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I****EVER **own anything pertaining to the "High School Musical" universe, NY Berkeley College, Juilliard University, or the Massachusetts Minutemen. 

Chapter 16

The whole crew came to see us off. Our parents hugged us and wished us well. Sharpay embraced Ryan and told him to be ruthless and not let anything stand in his way. She reminded me again, not sparing the gory details, of the consequences of me not living up to my promise to protect her brother. Luckily, I didn't have to worry about her threats on my manhood.

I would sooner die than let anyone hurt Ryan ever again.

Chad and I hugged and I overheard him telling Ryan to look after me. I could only smile to myself. Ryan didn't need a reminder. He'd look after me no matter what. Ry and I also made sure to warn Zeke and Jason not to get _too _frisky in front of Chad. His poor brain would probably explode. Zeke gave us his word that they weren't ready for anything like that.

There was a sort of awkward moment between Jason and Kelsi.

"Um…" Jason said, glancing toward his feet.

Kelsi also averted her eyes.

"Good luck," he finally said, looking up to meet her eyes. "With everything."

She looked almost taken aback. "Th-Thank you," she stammered.

Martha came forward and enveloped Ry, Kels, and me in great big hugs. "Make it happen, you guys. We're all rooting for you."

"Thank you," Ry and I said together.

"Thank you," Kelsi added with a smile that the bigger girl returned. It seemed to have more meaning than I could pick up on.

Heart-warmed by such encouragement, the three of us were ready to re-enter the fray. We boarded the plane to take us back to New York, promising to share news A.S.A.P. I vowed to myself that the next time we returned to Albuquerque, Ryan would be a star.

We were looking forward to reuniting with our friends in the Big Apple. Over break, I got an e-mail from an overjoyed Jake, declaring that Charlotte and Tyler had broken up around Christmas. On New Year's Eve, Jake finally decided to make the move and ask her out only for Charlotte to ask him first.

"I can't believe it!" His e-mail had gushed. "I never thought a girl would be so into me that she'd make the move! She likes me that _much! _It's just so _incredible _! :D"

I was so happy for him. He had waited all year, pining, holding out for her. He deserved this. And I knew Jake would be good to Charlotte. Even still, I felt sort of bad for Tyler. I'm sure he wasn't a bad guy, but when you're young, interests can change in the blink of an eye, sometimes. 

While Ry and I were celebrating the New Year together, several of our friends were without their partners. Kelsi was not quite her usual bubbly self, even in the company of Ryan and Martha, her closest friends. Ry confided in me that he suspected Kelsi's mood was a result of her missing Scot, who kept his word and texted her frequently in spite of the long distance between them.

Speaking of Scot, Marceline had e-mailed Ryan and me to inform us that Scot had taken steps to quitting smoking. She wasn't sure why, she had stated, but she had her suspicions, just like we did. She also let us know that Scot was hard at work on a new project.

I replied that we couldn't wait to see it.

As for Marceline herself, she reported that Victor was still calling her and regularly filling up her voicemail box with pleas for forgiveness. She finally answered one of his calls and she sharply told him, "I'm not the one you should be asking", then abruptly hung up. She was shaking Victor off her heels and moving on. "It feels great to let him go!" The end of her message said proudly. Ry and I were thrilled for her.

Of course, the biggest news we received from multiple sources was that we no longer had to deal with Cody Fucking Westmore. After Christmas, Mr. Evans and my dad had flown out to New York to negotiate with the Berkeley Administrative board and Cody Westmore's parents. Under the threat of a huge law suit for his harassment of me, Jake, and that one boy in the Lady Gaga t-shirt, and for his vicious attack on Ryan, which I think that bastard piece of shit deserved, Cody's parents agreed to expulsion from the school and jail time. That punishment was more than satisfying on our end.

Cody would arrive at school, collect his transcripts and whatever belongings he had left to mildew and stink up the locker room, and that would be the last anyone would ever have to see of him.

Jake, Marceline, and Scot were already rejoicing over this small victory.

I looked up to Ryan as he sat in the seat next to me on the plane. The two of us exchanged smiles. This time, we were going to do what we came there to do, and _no one _was going to stand in our way. But first, just like Gabriella, Cody and I still had a bridge to burn.

-About You Now-

Marceline and Scot were waiting for us when we arrived back at the apartment complex. Marceline ran in and swept each of us into a tight hug. "Welcome back, guys! It wasn't the same without you."

"We missed you, too," Ry said.

Kelsi flushed as she was crushed against Marceline's body. "Yeah," she agreed.

Scot wasn't as vocal, or as physical as his roomy, but you could read it in his face that he was just as ecstatic as she was. You could tell from the light in his eyes.

Ryan and I were just as happy to see him, but there was someone else who missed him more, and that was who he really wanted to see. He drew forward, approaching Kelsi.

Color filled Kelsi's fair cheeks.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she returned, somewhat breathlessly. She bit down on her lip, shyly ducking her head.

Scot made a motion, getting her attention. As she looked up, he slowly reached in and brushed her curls out of her face. "That's better," he murmured.

Kelsi remained still for a moment. Hesitating? She turned and gave Ryan a look and something I couldn't read passed between them. Then, she turned back to Scot and, with a smile that illuminated her entire pretty face, she took his hand into hers, interlacing their fingers.

I looked to Ryan and he shared my feeling of delight, crinkling his nose in that adorable way as he beamed.

"I missed you," Kelsi told Scot, leaning into his chest.

"I missed you, too." Scot was full on smiling, something we weren't used to from someone usually so impassive. And it was a great thing to see.

Marceline gave Scot a hard punch on the shoulder. "About damn time! _Shit!_" She expressed, the exasperation in her voice canceled out by the warm smile on her face.

-Unconditional-

Ryan and I showered together once we were back in our apartment. We lathered each other up with his body wash. After a long flight, it's incredibly soothing to have skilled hands rubbing over your body, gently kneading your stiff, cramped muscles.

After the water was shut off and suds were swirling in a misty cloud down the drain, we stepped out of the shower dripping wet, the sheen of cleanliness on our bodies. I wrapped an arm around his narrow waist, drawing him into me. He traced my sternum, reeling me in inch by inch. Both of us smiled as our mouths joined in a wet, sloppy kiss. He maneuvered us back toward the bed. Once we were there, he broke off and messed with my hair. I ran a hand through his, pushing several tufts upright.

He let out a noise of mock irritation.

I bit down on my tongue, laughing.

In response, Ry pulled me down, causing both of us to flop onto the bed. I continued laughing softly, letting him overpower me. As he held my wrists down, restraining me with his gentle strength, he butted me very lightly with his head, his gradually drying blond hair tickling my forehead. His sky blue eyes stared into my ocean colored ones.

I felt the mood shift.

"I want to go with you," he said, his voice full and calm and his gaze resolute. There was a hard glint in the back of his eyes. "I want the two of us to see this through together. It will be like the resolution of a movie, or play: the hero and his loyal sidekick have their final confrontation with the antagonist. He admits defeat and everyone moves onto live their lives and try for that ever evasive, "happily ever after"."

I nodded, agreeing with this. There wasn't anyone else I'd rather have at my side when I faced Cody Westmore for the last time. But. "You know what Yoda says, Ry." I smiled. ""There is no try"."

He smiled, his eyes shining. "You always come through, so we'll make it work." He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. I placed a hand on the back of his head and pulled him in, deepening the mouth contact.

When I pulled back, I looked into his eyes. "You know, you're _my _hero, Ry. After _everything _we've been through, you've pulled through. You never let anything faze you." _You never stopped being there when I needed you_, I added mentally.

I could see him getting ready to deny this evidence of his heroism. I kissed his cheek, my heart fluttering at the low noise the gesture caused him to make. "Don't you ever change. _Ever_. Promise me." I left another kiss in the crook of his neck. "I love you for everything you are. You could walk into Berkeley with me on Monday wearing a sequined pink tank-top and ass-less chaps, and I wouldn't love you any less," I told him, my intonation matching the smile that could have split my face.

He shook his head, his eyes glittering and a smile tugging at the ends of his luscious lipped mouth. "Troy, I… I don't even _own _ass-less chaps."

"Promise me." I gave him a gentle nudge with my nose.

"I promise," Ryan began slowly, "to never deviate, or digress from who I am as long as you stay exactly the way you choose to be." He moved down, his eyes penetrating me, seeing right into my soul. He knew what was in there, and I knew he loved all of it for everything it was. All of me. "As long as you swear to _never _let anyone other you define Troy Bolton." His features softened with a visible adoration. "Because I love that man for everything he knows he is, he thinks he is, and everything he still has to figure out."

I felt my throat tighten, but it was a good thing. I haven't been in a church since I was like, five, and I don't really devote much of my thoughts to religion. It is what it is. Right then, though, I found myself thanking whatever higher powers there were for Ryan, and the fact that, out of the nearly seven billion people in the world, somehow, he had wound up with me.

-Hero-

As we entered Berkeley's campus that morning, Ryan dressed to incense, to outrage, and did it ever get my blood pumping. He strutted confidently down the halls beside me, his hips swaying in that incredibly captivating way. He wore a white dress shirt underneath of a hot pink vest. His fedora and the belt holding his his hugging black jeans up on his waist were the same shade of pink that could be spotted in a crowd a block away.

Wearing my Berkeley Knights's letterman jacket, I matched him stride for stride, my arm resting on his lower back and a smile on my face, declaring to the world: "This is my boyfriend. This beautiful, talented, witty, and sexy-as-hell boy is _mine_."

Heads popped up at the clicking of Ry's heels on the tile floor. We could feel looks thrown our way, stares that ranged from surprise, to bewilderment, to downright horror.

Ryan didn't care. He continued to strut right on and I loved him so _freaking _much for it.

"Whoo, work it!" A pretty red-head exclaimed as she walked past us.

"Thank you!" We replied.

"Welcome back, Bolton," a familiar low voice intoned to my right.

I looked to find Ethan Samuels, a member of my little group. Over break, he had apparently decided to shoot his dark hair through with highlighter green streaks.

Taking in the sight of Ryan in all of his flawless flamboyancy, Ethan remarked, "Troy Bolton and boyfriend. Why does this not surprise me?" As far as I could tell, there was no disgust or alarm embedded in his inflection or his gaze. Ryan didn't detect any either. He communicated this to me by giving my hand a comforting squeeze.

Relief coursing through my veins, I finally managed, "What's up, Ethan?"

"Nothing much," the older boy shrugged nonchalantly.

He placed his hands in his pockets, directing a nod down the hall. "It seems you have some unfinished business to attend to with _El Capitan_."

Following his indicator, I looked down the hall and could make out the stupid, douchey blond cowlick of Cody Westmore.

I straightened my spine, anticipating what was soon to go down. "Thanks, Ethan."

"No problem." Ethan's green eyes swept over Ryan. "You look like you're in good hands, so I'll leave you to it." With that, he continued on his way, loping along in his signature, careless manner.

I was conscious of Ry's hand in mine as we moved on. Noticing Jake, Marcus and Charlotte among the hallway observers, I gave them all a passing nod. I made a point to send them texts, letting them that I would be alright seeing Cody off on my own.

Jake, naturally, was one of the most reluctant about accepting that, but Charlotte and I were able to sway him. Eventually he let it go on the terms that he didn't want to deal with him again, anyway, but I was to "give a holler" if things got out of hand.

Charlotte's blue eyes were wide with worry, her brows knitted together. "Be careful," she mouthed.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Jake returned my nod, his mouth a firm line.

Marcus shook his head in silent acceptance of my relationship, mouthing the words, "Good luck, man."

"Thanks," I replied.

Cody stood at his locker, a bitter scowl on his face. Two police officers, a man and a lady officer, flanked him. They were most likely there to escort him off of campus grounds and make sure nothing happened. As Cody noticed us, his eyes narrowed and his upper lip curled, pulling away from his gums to flash his teeth. "What the hell do you want, Bolton? You here to gloat, or something?"

"No." I shifted my weight awkwardly. "Maybe I would over the fact that I get to live my life and so do the rest of the kids at this school who are a bit too _different _for your tastes."

Cody stared at me for a moment, glaring at me like I was a pile of dog shit that he had stepped in.

"Maybe, I _would _gloat over the fact that you're about to do time for assaulting and traumatizing my boyfriend."

At that, Cody turned away, a low sound like a growl coming from his throat.

The lady officer shot him and me a warning look.

Swallowing to moisten my dry throat, I went on, "But that's not what we came here to do." The knowledge that Ryan was there, that his slender hand was in mine and that he had recovered enough to stand beside me and face the right leader of the attack squad who nearly broke him, was extremely comforting and empowering to me.

The assho- excuse me, Cody, looked back to us, his eyes still filled with scorn, but I could tell that he had been caught off guard. The shrill ringing of a bell filled the hallways, and the few stragglers dashed into their classrooms.

"We just want to talk," I stated, my voice as unwavering as I could make it.

A strange smirk tugged at the ends of Cody's mouth. "Alright. We'll "talk"."

The two officers exchanged a glance.

"We'll give you two minutes," the female officer said.

"No hijinks either," the male officer added.

"Thank you," I murmured quickly, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Ry dipped his head in a sort of bow.

The three of us headed around a corner in the hallway about ten or fifteen feet away from the cops. I had spent a good part of the previous night, that wasn't dedicated to fondling Ryan, repeatedly telling myself that I was _not _going to lay into Cody and make that son of a bitch squeal for his mommy after the humiliation he had subjected Ryan to.

No, that was a job reserved for an Evans.

Almost instantly, Ryan turned on Cody, catching the taller, douchebag blond off guard. He pinned him against the lockers with an icy glare that was probably capable of causing the testicles of an elephant to shrivel up.

"Look, _Westmore_. I know why you did what you did. It's because you just can't accept the fact that two teenage boys would have the huge dangling balls to be in a relationship that defies the "natural laws" you were taught to abide by. It's because you can't make yourself come to terms with such "degenerates" existing in this narrow-minded world." Ry moved in closer, elevating himself on his toes until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the miserable bastard.

He might as well have been towering over Cody with the way our "captain" cowered away from Ryan, practically flattening himself against those lockers to avoid the Evans's stylish fury.

I was so proud of Ryan, and more than a little turned on.

"You lash out at us "fairies" and "cocksuckers", because you are _terrified _of us," Ryan went on.

It was true. Cody's face was paled, his eyes wide and his upper lip trembling as he fought to pull off a menacing snarl.

The half-assed sneer he came up with was completely ineffectual at dissuading Ryan anyway. "And I _know _damn well why." Ry lowered his voice, but kept that tough as nails and granite edge to it. I never could have anticipated what he would say next. "You quake in terror and revulsion at "faggots" like us, because you can't bring yourself to admit that you _are one of us_."

I felt a shockwave jolt through me. Whoa! _What_? Cody Fucking Westmore, the Big Dick Head On Campus and one of the most blatant homophobes I had ever met was _gay_? My brain just couldn't seem to process that.

Cody seemed to be coming out of a trance. "Yeah," he said, his voice quaking like I had never heard it. "Got me all figured out, _huh Pinkie_?

As he moved forward, nearly knocking heads with Ryan, I stepped up, my protective instincts kicking in as I took my boyfriend's side, standing between him and the bastard.

There was a strange, fevered gleam in Cody's eyes. "How could I fucking help myself around that hot piece of ass boyfriend of yours, Bolton?"

I grit my teeth, rage heating my blood as I pictured his fists mercilessly pummeling Ryan's petite body.

"And seeing your stupid six pack and tight ass in the shower!"

My skin prickled at the thought of _his _eyes roaming over me, the thought of him _beating the shit _out of Ryan for being hot. "It's not our fault that you can't control your damn hormones!" I retorted, battling to keep as much control as Ryan did.

"No matter what you do, or tell yourself, you can't erase these feelings or wish them away," Ry spoke up. "They're part of who you are."

Letting out a growl of something akin to outrage or frustration, Cody slammed his fist into the nearest locker.

Unfazed, Ry resumed, "The only thing that you can do is accept them." He turned his blue eyes on me, the look in them softened from the iciness he had unleashed on Cody Westmore.

"W-We can help you with that," I offered. I walked to Cody and extended my hand, revealing two slips of paper that had both mine and Ryan's e-mail addresses on them.

Cody bristled, looking like he was ready to spit, or sucker punch me in the face.

"Or," Ryan's lips formed a wicked, defiant smirk. His next words were delivered in a tone as sweet as sugar, "You could always learn to adjust in prison."

That unsavory option got through. Somehow, Cody's face simultaneously reddened and blanched. With a last vitriolic stare meant for both of us, he snatched the papers from my hand.

The two officers appeared. "Said your "goodbyes"?" The lady officer inquired brusquely.

"Come on, Westmore. We ain't got all day." The male cop fiddled with the Aviator shades tucked in the pocket of his uniform shirt.

Cody stalked over to the officers, his face set in a disgusted frown.

Ry and I watched as he gathered up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. He extracted a few crumpled up pieces of paper and tossed them into a trash can. It felt sort of like a dream as he threw one more glare our way. I was tempted to do something sassy, just to get one more rise out of him, but seeing Ry so still beside me, I dropped my hands to the sides and stood there.

It seemed like _forever_, but in what I realized was only a couple of minutes, Cody Westmore exited out of the doors of NY Berkeley and out of our lives. That was it. Physically, he was _gone_.

For a moment, my brain was unable to process that. I could only stand there, dumbfounded. "He's gone," I murmured. It sounded like a question.

"He's gone," Ryan echoed. His was an affirmation.

We looked to each other. A radiant sparkle lit up Ryan's sky colored eyes and an equally radiant sparkle illuminated his face.

Joy filled me to the bursting point. Grinning like an idiot, like I just won the lottery, the keys to the city and a freaking Camaro, I pulled Ryan into a kiss right in the middle of the hallway. And I couldn't have cared less who saw it.

-The Cave-

When Ryan and I were getting ready to go our separate ways- him back to the apartment, and me, staying at school- a clearing of a throat got our attention.

Surprised, I whirled around to find Victor Rodriguez standing there, his dark olive skin considerably blanched. His hands hung at his sides, his fists clenching and unclenching.

I shot Ryan a look of bewilderment, even though I knew he had no idea what this was about either. Was Victor going to kick our asses for getting rid of his best friend?

"I…" Victor started, his eyes downcast. "I'm sorry."

It was quiet, like he had to force the apology out, but it was still an apology all the same.

Ryan's eyes widened.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Thank you," Ry replied before things got _too_ awkward. He dipped his head in a show of gratitude.

Looking over his shoulder like he wanted to make sure that no one saw that, Victor half returned the nod and hastily shuffled off.

"Wow…" I remarked, still not quite over the shock.

Ryan clicked his tongue softly. "Well…"

I wasn't entirely sure if were supposed to be celebrating, or concerned, or _what_. I _did _know, however, that we could all go on with our lives, now. There would be no more hassling or heckling going on. No one would live in fear anymore at Berkeley. I'd see to it myself.

At that moment, though, I turned to Ryan. "You ready?"

"Yeah." He gave me a half-smile, taking a deep breath. Before I could open my mouth, he added, "I'll text you when I'm safe and sound in the apartment."

I smiled. "'Kay." Leaning in, I pressed a kiss to Ry's temple under his fedora. My hand found his and clasped it tightly. He interlaced our fingers. I swung our arms, his presence just unraveling me, and then, we let go.

About halfway down the hall, he turned back and blew me a kiss that I caught and stowed away in my pocket.

When I received his text at the start of my second period history class, I pressed that kiss to my lips and just barely kept myself from jumping out of my chair and cheering out loud. I settled instead for a fist pump and a whispered, "_Yes_!" I got a weird look from the girl in the desk next to me, but I didn't care. I just sank into my chair, nearly overcome with relief.

We really were okay.

-Dog Days Are Over-

At lunch, Charlotte proposed that we form a GSA.

"A what?" Marcus asked.

"A Gay-Straight Alliance," she clarified. "Think of how beneficial it would be to gay, bi, transgendered, asexual, or questioning students to know that their straight peers are looking out for them." She directed a disarmingly sunny smile at Jake.

"I think that's a great idea, Char!" He piped up.

"Me, too," I said. "Everyone has a right to feel safe on campus no matter their orientation."

"Yeah, especially now that that Westmore bastard is outta here." Jake added, rejoicing over that news.

The three of us turned to Ethan and Marcus, who were sitting at the other end of the table.

They exchanged a glance.

After a moment to think it over, Ethan shrugged. "I'm in." When this caused Marcus to raise an eyebrow, he justified himself with a half-smile and, "I could meet some interesting people. Help them work out their sexual confusion."

I felt myself smiling. That left just one person to convince. All of our eyes fell on Marcus.

He let out a huge sigh, his broad shoulders slumping. "I guess I've got no choice. Jas would probably kick my ass if she found out I wasn't on board with this." He shook his head, an incredulous smile slowly tugging at his lips. "Count me in."

Charlotte, Jake, and I celebrated their support by patting Marcus and Ethan's shoulders, even if Ethan made a face at the contact. An overzealous grin was on my face. I was proud of this minor victory; Cody and Victor gone, and the formation of a GSA on the horizon. It felt like a huge accomplishment. More importantly, I was proud of myself, and I knew that Ryan would be, too.

-Move Along-

"Team, front and center!" Coach Bryson called out.

Jake and I dropped our conversation and jogged over to line up with the rest of the team.

Coach Bryson looked us over, tapping his clipboard with his pencil. He was of a surprisingly small build for the coach of a sports team, but all of us knew from firsthand experience that he could single-handedly whip our asses on the court, in spite of it.

I also learned that good things come in small packages; Kels, Marceline, and especially Ryan.

"With Westmore out of here and Rodriguez out of commission for the rest of the year," our coach paused, his face flushing with frustration.

The team turned to see Victor Rodriguez, our once proud co-captain, occupying a seat on the bench, staring at the floor.

I felt a twinge of pity for him. He had really screwed up, and it looked like he wasn't going to get a second chance. The, I remembered discovering Ryan crumpled up on Chris Jeffers's kitchen floor, the garish bruises on his ribs, and listening to every painful breath he drew in, and the pity instantly vanished. _It serves Victor right_, I told myself.

"This team needs a new captain," Coach Bryson went on. "someone who can cooperate, who works well under pressure, and _doesn't _let his temper get the best of him."

There were murmurs of agreement.

He shifted his weight, then fixed us all in an intense, questioning stare. "Any nominees?"

I felt a couple of eyes on me and swallowed self-consciously. True, I had helped the team score the winning basket, or a tie game in our last several games. And, as much as I would love to hold that position again, I wasn't as skilled as some of the other players. Besides, I was sure that news of my sexuality had gotten out, and I wasn't going to take on such a role if people would feel uncomfortable following my command. One thing you never do, as my dad said, is jeopardize the unity of the team. It's well-oiled machine, and all the cogs have to mesh and work together.

No, there was definitely a better choice than me; someone level-headed and both quick on the uptake and on his feet. Someone who had helped us win just as much as me. "I nominate Marcus," I said, my voice ringing out over the hushed murmurs of the other guys still trying to arrive at a decision.

"Me, too, sir," Jake said from beside me.

"Yeah, me, too," Chris Jeffers chimed in.

"Me, too, Coach," I heard Grady Connors, one of Cody's former goons, join in.

Soon enough, the nine other guys on the team were voicing their agreement.

Coach Bryson nodded, the look on his face determined, like he knew we had more of a chance at winning our up-coming game with a competent leader in command. He looked to Marcus. "Are you up to the task, Young?"

I leaned out of the line to see his reaction, as did the rest of the guys on my end.

Marcus's brown eyes were wide from the unanimous decision, but he recovered quickly and dipped his head, agreeing to all of the responsibilities of his new title. "Sure thing, Coach." He moved forward and turned to face the rest of us. "I won't let you guys down. We're gonna kick some Minuteman ass next month!"

Wild cheers broke out. Everyone gathered around our new team captain. "Marcus! Yeah, whoo!" Thom Vincent, another one of Cody's former minions, called.

"Way to go, Young!" Chris hollered out.

Jake gave Marcus a congratulatory slap on the back.

"Thanks, guys," Marcus said with a grin. As everyone began to simmer down, he spoke up again, "I'm honored you guys chose me, and if you don't mind, I'm gonna pick out a co-captain who not only has faith in me, but knows a thing or two about strategy and sportsmanship."

Looks were exchanged.

"Who d'ya think he'll pick?" Jake whispered to me.

I prepared to shrug only to have my heart miss a beat as Marcus announced, "Troy Bolton!"

"Huh?" I said dimly.

"Yeah!" Jake called out, giving me a delighted shove.

The other guys gathered around me, jostling my shoulders. Chris Jeffers ruffled my hair with one of his big hands. Marcus moved in and gave my shoulder a squeeze, smiling encouragingly.

"Yeah, Bolton!" Thom Vincent called out again.

Feeling a rush of pride and happiness, I couldn't help but break into a smile. I just knew Ryan was going to be so proud of me. And my dad, too. I would make him proud.

"Alright, guys!" Coach Bryson clutched his clipboard, his brown eyes gleaming excitedly. "We are gonna win this!"

**A/N: Next Chapter: The audition that will change Troy and Ryan's lives. See you then. **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Again, I apologize for the delays. I should never allow my personal life to interfere with giving you guys a damn good story. I'd like to thank my two constant reviewers, you guys know who you are, for all of your support. I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.**

**Now, enough dilly-dallying. Onward, we march!**

Chapter 17

"Hey, slow down, Ry!" I called. The two of us decided to brave the winter weather and jog through Central Park. The years of dancing gave Ryan killer legs muscles and he easily outran me. I was sort of winded from the effort of trying to keep up with him.

"What's wrong? The Berkeley Knight's co-captain can't keep up?" He teased me.

When I told him the news of my appointment to that position, he had squealed and took me into a hug, ecstatically jumping up and down. I had then lifted him up and twirled him around, my heart swelling as he told me over and over again how proud of me he was.

He fell back, like he was ready to run pace for pace with me like usual, but suddenly, he stopped and turned to face a sign.

I caught up to him and stood beside him, looking to see what got his attention. My breath puffed out in clouds in the chilly air as I read, "The Magniloquent Roving Theater Presents _Raviver_. Auditions will be held on January 21st and 22nd."

"This could be it," Ryan said, his eyes riveted on the poster.

I reached down and took his hand into mine. "This _will _be it," I assured him firmly. "We're going to make it happen this time. No delays."

He turned to me and nodded, his eyes sparking determinedly. "No setbacks."

I tightened my hold on his hand.

After a moment, he took off, me hurrying behind him. "I guess we'd better get started, then!" He called back.

"Oh, absolutely!" I exclaimed.

-Practice Makes Perfect-

He lead me to a dance studio on 110th street. There was a lady at the desk, a red head. I'm guessing based on appearance alone that she was somewhere between 21 and 25, and not bad looking either.

"Mr. Evans," she greeted Ryan.

"Ms. Hollhand," Ryan returned with a polite smile.

I wondered how they knew each other, but I didn't have time to consider it. Ry said that we needed we needed to use the studio and Ms. Hollhand gave us permission, no questions asked. After thanking her, Ryan whisked me along.

"She's nice," I said, more than a bit confused.

"She's one of the teaching assistants at Juilliard. She majored in choreography and teaches ballet every other weekend. All the students under her tutelage have free access to this studio. It's one of the few perks of being rich enough to attend such a prestigious school," he explained with a slight odd laugh.

"Oh." I nodded.

We stopped in a typical ballet studio; polished wood floors, ballet bars, and mirrors on all sides.

"So, uh, you got any particular moves planned?" I asked, helping Ry with his coat before wiggling my way out of mine.

Ry walked to the far end of the room and hung them up. "I figured we'd just wing it." He walked over to the speaker system. "It'll help me work on my spontaneous improv," he replied cheerily, hooking his Ipod up.

"Okay."

As the music started, "The Edge Of Glory" by Lady Gaga, he made his way over to me. We danced through several songs. Although Ry's moves were rigorous and complex and keeping up with him was exhausting, his natural fluidity and energy, mixed with my own not-so-secret love of dancing, kept the rehearsal from feeling like work.

By the time we finished the fourth song, "Hungry Eyes", by Eric Carmen, we were both dripping with sweat, panting heavily, and hardly able to stand. But it felt _great_. Dancing with someone so agile and skilled as Ryan is _really _invigorating.

"You know what?" I prompted, leaning into him, grazing his cheek with the end of my nose. I could smell his sweet, misty cologne on his neck.

"What?" His chest moved against mine, his breath tickling my face and giving me a warm, tingly feeling and goosebumps.

"You're going to be a star, Ry. You're going to see your name in lights and your face in Rolling Stone Magazine."

"Yeah," he murmured. "I am." He paused for a moment, then pulled back, adding with ringing confidence, "Yes, I am!"

"Yeah, you are." I laughed quietly.

He pecked me on the lips and I gave him a pat on the ass. I helped him collect his Ipod and we grabbed our coats, then headed out, thanking Ms. Hollhand along the way.

While walking home, I'm not gonna lie, we sort of pranced a little while singing the song, "Hungry Eyes" to each other. Yeah, I know it's totally embarrassing, but I'm pretty sure it was a result of us still being hyped up. The most surprising part is that, even though we were dancing down a street, singing, in thirty-degree weather with a good foot of snow on the sidewalk, we actually didn't get that many odd looks. I guess New Yorkers are just used to seeing people spontaneously burst into song and dance.

- She Will Be Loved -

Marceline was sitting in the hallway, waiting for us when we got back to the apartment. "_Hola, amigos_."

"Hi," we returned. I reached into my jeans to pull out the keys.

"You guys got a second?" She asked, jumping to her feet.

Ry and I exchanged a glance. "Yeah," he answered.

She opened her apartment door and we followed her inside.

"Where's Scot?" I asked, taking notice of his lack of appearance.

"He and Kelsi went out for coffee," Marceline replied, her tone overtly playful as she lead us back to her roomie's art studio.

"Did they?" I inquired, grinning.

"Oh yes," she said with a smirk.

"Kelsi called me the other night to let me know that Scot is going to let her pay for _half_." Ry's eyes sparkled conspiratorially. I remembered a conversation he had with Martha and Kelsi over Christmas vacation.

The two of them had accompanied us on a hot chocolate run back in Albuquerque and we decided to stay at the Starbucks to drink our beverages. Between sips, Ryan confided that I was definitely his idea of the "perfect man". I could only blush and grin shyly, brushing my bangs out of my eyes as my self-confidence shot up.

Martha had said with a smile on her lips and a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, "No offense, Troy, but I'm more into guys that can bust a move."

Kelsi smiled along with her.

"None taken," I had assured Martha, even though my confidence had taken a blow.

Ryan rubbed my shoulder consolingly when he saw my lower lip protruding a little. His sympathetic eyes said, _"Don't mind her, Troy. You dance beautifully."_

It helped put a smile back on my face.

"What about you, Kels?" Martha gave Kelsi a nudge, blowing tentatively on her own cappuccino. "What are you looking for in a man?"

"Well…" Kelsi had turned away, blushing. We all knew, of course, that her last crush had been on Ryan, but tastes can change depending on the person that enters your life when you least expect it.

"Come on, playmaker," I encouraged her with a smile, my fingers rapping on my cardboard cup.

"It's all right. Your secret's safe with us." Ryan exposed her to that lethal smile. I remember that he had been using a candy cane to stir his hot chocolate. His mouth had tasted delicious, even more so than usual that day. Mmm, peppermint.

Kelsi finally admitted,"Well, I like guys that are sweet, talented…" She trailed off, leaving a certain word that we all knew off. "I also like it when a man lets a woman pay for at least half of everything," she continued. Her cheeks flaring, she hastily amended, "Oh, don't get me wrong! I'm all for chivalry, of course. I just hate it when guys get all stubborn and pig-headed about paying for everything, you know." She eyed me warily.

"No, it's cool. I totally get where you're coming from," I reassured her. I actually totally approved of that. Ry and I take turns footing the bill when we eat out. Gabriella, however, never raised any objections about letting me pay for everything. She'd just smile at me and flutter her eyelashes, expecting me to be a "perfect gentleman" at all times.

"Oh, really?" I grinned in response to Ryan's statement about Scot agreeing to split the bill.

Ry smiled coyly.

"Looks like our little Kelsi's finally going to score." I nudged him playfully,

"I wouldn't crack open the wine bottles _just _yet," Marceline reminded us. "I mean, give them at least a week to make things official." She tossed her long black hair over one shoulder. "Anyway, here we are!" She halted in front of a canvas that was covered by a tarp. "This is the big project that Scot has been working on."

I exchanged a curious glance with Ryan.

Marceline threw the tarp off in a "Marceline-esque flourish" as my well-spoken boyfriend would say, and revealed a _mind-blowingly _realistic portrait of Kelsi.

"Whoa…" Ryan and I intoned, gaping at the painting.

Through his careful brush strokes, Scot brought out what he saw in Kelsi, the beauty that the petite composer tried so hard to hide from the world. In Scot's painting of her, Kelsi was sitting at a piano, engrossed in her music. The thing she loves. Her hands were raised and poised to play and her blue-green eyes sparkled under the veil of her eyelashes. The lenses of her glasses were even shining.

"Scotty worked on this for three weeks," Marceline went on. "He used a photo on his cell phone that Kelsi sent him. He would spend like _hours _in here, touching up on this painting until it was "perfect"."

"Talk about dedication," I murmured.

"This is an _incredible_ piece of artwork," Ryan spoke up. "I just know that she'll love it."

"That will make Scot's world!" Marceline exclaimed, her face lighting up. She practically bounced in her big, thigh-high combat boots.

"What about you?" I asked gently. "Are you sure you're gonna be alright?"

She waved away my concerns. "I'll be fine. Who says I need a man to have a good time? Besides, it's New York! I'll find some way to keep myself busy while you two fool around and Kelsi and Scot frolic in the Land of Amor." She nudged me, her elbow hitting my arm fairly hard, but not enough to hurt me. "Now, why don't you boys head back to your place?"

"We will," I replied with a smile, even though it wasn't a question. My arm found its way to Ryan and rested on the small of his back, on top of his wool jacket that had been imported from Wales.

"Take care, Marceline." Ryan gave her a sweet smile. "And thank you for sharing that painting with us."

"No problem." Marceline returned the smile and escorted us out, reminding us once we were at her door with a devious smirk and a sugary voice to, "keep it down".

We couldn't make any promises.

Later that night while we were cuddled on the couch, flipping through the channels, Ryan got a call from a totally hyped up Kelsi, who gushed about how well her "totally not a date" with Scot had gone.

We exchanged sly grins and happily chorused together, "Congratulations!"

I'm pretty sure her face went as red as a beat on her end.

- You're The Inspiration -

That Monday, Ry came home late. I was used to one of us getting a little held over due to practices, but he didn't tell me in advance, like he usually would have.

That was my first sign that all wasn't peachy-keen.

When he came through the door, I greeted him with my usual, "Hey."

"Hey," he returned, kicking off his snowy shoes and hanging up his coat. His pace was unusually lagging and his posture was slumped. Something was definitely up.

"What's wrong, babe?"

He let out a sigh, unwinding his scarf from around his neck. "We went over the criteria for that audition today."

"Yeah?" My eyes followed him as he traversed the living room floor, and then as he plopped down beside me on the couch.

"And apparently, they neglected to mention on the posters that original pieces are _mandatory _requirements for auditions."

I blinked in surprise and confusion, my heart sinking a little. When he explained that to me, Ry fidgeted and harshly gesticulated his words, indicating that he was more than upset. He was incredibly frustrated, too. I remembered that that two-bit hack bastard, Gustav Lalong, or whatever, stole Ryan's song, "Scintillate". _That little fuck will probably audition with it, too! _The thought enraged me as soon as it crossed my mind. I clenched my fist, half-ready to leave the apartment and hunt Gustav down so that I could kick some prissy, egotistic ass. That would do no good, however. I'd probably wind-up in jail and there was no way I was having prison sex. The only one with access to my ass was Ryan.

"Are you alright?" He asked me, breaking into my thoughts. My temper suddenly flaring hadn't escaped his notice.

"I'm fine." I ran a hand through my hair and inhaled through my nose like Ry taught me, calming myself.

"You don't need to work yourself up over this," he murmured gently, tracing my forearm through my shirt. "I mean, it's _frustrating_, but…" He trailed off, his darkened eyes falling to the floor.

"You can write another song, right?"

He shook his head. "I tried… but the words…" He bit down on his lip. "Troy, the audition is in _five _days." He was losing his conviction again, losing hope.

"Hey." I curled my finger under his chin and tilted it up so that our eyes met. "We'll work something out, okay? You are _so close _to getting what you've always wanted. I'll be damned if I let you give up now."

He nodded, his eyes shining with moistness, then nuzzled into my neck. As his arms wrapped around me, he said softly, his voice barely there, "Thank you."

"For what?" I ran a hand down his back.

He pressed a kiss under my jaw. "For being you."

Kelsi stopped over for a visit that evening. While she and Ryan sipped tea, to calm his nerves, and discussed his audition, I wandered into our bedroom. I know it's wrong, but something possessed me to look through the drawers in the desk in the corner of the room. The top drawer contained miscellaneous stuff, rubber bands, pens, books, and some stuff that I won't name.

Inside the middle drawer was a stack of papers that I quickly recognized as sheet music. The songs from "Twinkle Towne", the infamous winter musical, were there, along with copies of the music from last year's spring musical, "Senior Year", that had notes in Ryan's neat print written in the margins. Toward the middle of the stack, I noticed a piece of notebook paper. "Everyday" it said along the top in Ry's hand writing. My eyes widened as the memory slammed into me full force.

"_Everyday_," I heard my voice reading off of the top of the music Ryan had handed me that summer at Lava Springs. It was the song he told me that Sharpay wanted to sing with me after he convinced me to sing with her again. It was the song Gabriella and I performed in the club's talent show, the song that got us back together. And _Ryan _wrote it?

It clicked into place. Ryan had _planned _my reunion with Gabriella, just like I suspected. He organized everything. My heart started hammering. He had stood there next to me, his hand resting on my back, his eyes glowing, and an encouraging smile on his face. He knew that I could learn that song. He knew what would make me happy again. _Oh my god! _There was only one explanation, he had been in love with me back then, too. I felt my legs quaking as it all sank in.

Even then, Ryan was willing to put _me _first. He had touched me, put on that beautiful smile to send me off to Gabriella again, even though…! Oh my _god. _A lump tightened in my throat. I could have freaking collapsed and cried like a baby, right there.

From the other room, I could hear Kelsi say, "Ryan, you're an _amazing_, multi-talented performer. That should be enough for anyone."

"Thanks," Ryan replied. His pleasant tone became bitter. "I just wish that freaking reprobate hadn't stolen that song. I should have been more careful!"

The fact that he was blaming himself for this mess re-ignited my spark of motivation. Again, I was drawn back to that drawer, even more resolute than before. I was going to help him get the lead in that show, no matter what.

I owed him that much.

_And then, _I vowed, _we'll take back every second that I wasted with Gabriella. We'll do it together. We're not gonna lose, 'cause we get to choose… _Suddenly, I found something, a piece of music that I didn't recognize. My heart leapt into my throat. I almost called out, but _no_. It would be a surprise. I'd surprise him. Pulling the rest of the loose pieces out of the stack, I studied them intensely, trying to make sense of the notes on staves.

It was no good.

"Hang on a second. I'll be right back," Ryan said.

That was it!

I moved to the door and peeked around it. Once I spotted the tiny brunette girl alone on the couch, I called, "_Pst_, Kelsi", my voice hushed to keep from getting Ry's attention.

"Huh?" Kelsi whipped around, obviously startled.

"Come here." I waved her over.

When she was in the room, I asked her in a low voice, "Do you know what this is?" I handed her the music.

After a couple of seconds of examination, her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth to reduce the volume of her exclamation of, "Oh my goodness!"

"What?" My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in my ears. I swallowed in anticipation.

"Troy, you've found the rest of "Scintillate"!" Kelsi's eyes shone and she looked like she was just barely keeping herself from jumping up and down.

"I _did_?" A smile broke out on my face and I had to bite back my own cry of triumph. "This is _fantastic_!" I whispered.

"Yes! We can give this to Ryan, and-and-!" Kelsi tended to stumble over her words when she was excited.

I felt bad, but I had to cut her off. An idea had come to me. "Hold up, Kels."

She blinked at me curiously.

"I want Ryan to get the lead role," I explained. "He's wanted this his entire life. He _deserves _this."

She nodded, already on the same page as me. "So, how are you going to do that, Captain?"

"Well…" I rubbed at the back of my neck. "I was hoping you'd be able to give me a hand with that."

Kelsi tilted her head and tapped her chin in contemplation. Just as my anxieties began rising, she smiled and swatted playfully at my left arm. Everyone always seemed to aim for that arm. "Of course I'll help out! Just tell me what to do."

"Alright!" I grinned, pumping my fist.

He didn't know it yet, but Ryan Evans was about to be a _star_.

- I Need A Hero -

That night while we lay together, with me covering his face in earnest kisses, Ryan, as always, caught onto the fact that I was hiding something.

"What are you planning?" He asked, pulling the eyebrow raise on me.

"You'll see," I promised, wielding the boyish grin. It was infallible.

He flashed me a half-smile, then pulled me back into a kiss. After two minutes of his tongue exploring my mouth, he broke off, nibbling softly at my lower lip. "Just as long as you're not going to get yourself hurt."

"Hey, I know that I'm not invincible, Ry." I kissed him tenderly. I'm not invincible, but that doesn't mean that I couldn't be his hero.

- Rally The Troops -

Ry's dancer "friends" at Juilliard were, surprisingly, the easiest to recruit. Kelsi called them all together for a conference that Tuesday.

"Look, guys." I launched right in without prelude, trying not to let their pricey clothes, superior stares and disconcertingly perfect postures intimidate me.

Even Ryan, with all his designer clothing and wealth, stuck out among these kids as a sort of outcast. He just didn't have their attitudes.

Well, I didn't have $200.00 shoes or $500.00 jeans, but I had one advantage, my sheer willpower. Like I learned in history class, the key to appealing to a frighteningly frigid crowd is charisma. And if my social life in high school was any indicator, I also had plenty of that to spare. "You all know that audition is on Saturday. Ryan wants to be a star, just as much as any of you do, and this is his chance." I maintained a level gaze with them, pushing my initial nervousness aside. I was doing this for Ryan. _For Ryan_.

Kelsi nodded encouragingly from beside me. Just like Ryan, for all her talent, she was alienated here, too. But if someone as shy as her could speak up in front of them, I _knew _I could.

"The only thing standing in his way," I went on, "is that he needs an original song for his audition. "I'm pretty sure that we can all agree that "Scintillate" is an _amazing _song."

A relatively tall girl with silvery blond hair that flowed out from underneath a sequined headband, and a taller brunette guy with a- turquoise, I think- ascot tied around his neck, Celeste and Luc, nodded, their faces set.

"_But_," I continued, beginning to pace a little as my thoughts, and the words to articulate them, really started flowing, growing more impassioned, "that no talent _hack_, Gustav, stole it from him. And I'll bet," I halted and fixed the intense crowd in an intense stare, my insides starting to boil and churn with outrage, "that Gustav is going to use _Ryan's _song to audition for a part that he doesn't deserve."

There were a couple of gasps and some murmurs of disbelief.

I didn't notice it while I was talking, but my voice had gradually risen in dynamic until it reverberated off the walls in the auditorium. "And _I'm _not going to let him get away with it! Who else isn't gonna stand for this? Who else is going to help me make sure that the lead role in that play goes to someone who has done _nothing_ but work his _ass_ off to deserve it‽"

"_Moi_!" A familiar voice with a French accent declared. Celeste stepped forward, her hand raised. "Gustav is _tre penible et un trou du cul. _He needs to be brought down for plagiarizing from such a sweet boy as Ryan!" She gave her booted foot a stomp for emphasis.

"I agree," Luc joined in. "Ryan is _fantastic_. Gustav is nothing but a bloody arsehole."

The rest of the group buzzed with assent.

"_Oui_, Troy. Tell us how we may help?" Celeste turned to me, with big, inquiring green eyes. The others followed her lead.

I shot a look at Kelsi and she beamed back at me, her eyes alight behind the lenses of her glasses and her hands clasped tightly together.

Phase one was complete.

Phase two was going to be a bit more difficult.

- Bet On It -

"Come on!" I pleaded with Brody Foster, the head of the technical crew in Berkeley's drama department.

"Troy," he shook his head, adjusting headset mic, "I sympathize with you, man, but what would we be gaining by helping your boyfriend ace an audition?"

A blinding stage light was suddenly shining into our eyes. Immediately, I raised a hand to shield myself from the overpowering glare.

"Ian," Brody said with an edge to his voice, "watch where you're aiming those lights."

"Sorry!" A voice, presumably Ian's, shouted from the light operator's box.

Brody sighed, rubbing at his temple.

"Listen, Brody," I lowered my voice and moved in closer to him. "Dude, you help me with this, and I will give you every bit of advice that I know on winning a girl's heart." Sure, he knew about my sexuality, but I knew about his crush on Angela Carol, the curly-haired curtain operator with cargo pants. My second day there, I could already make her laugh at my jokes, while she only laughed at Brody's fumbles. He could never seem to work up the courage to actually talk to her. In other words, it was an offer that he couldn't refuse.

He looked up at me, his brown eyes wary. He pulled the headset off. "Is that a promise?"

"Oh yeah, man. Absolutely! I promise." I crossed an "x" over my heart, just for good measure.

Looking around to make sure that no one standing nearby over heard us, Brody chewed his lip, then ran a hand through his thick, spiky black hair. At last, he extended his hand. "It's a deal, then."

I shook his hand powerfully, grinning broadly. "Thanks a _ton_, man."

"Yeah, whatever." He flushed awkwardly. When I released his hand, Brody put the headset back on. "Hey, over here, guys!" He called into it. "Troy Bolton, here, needs our exceptional talents."

Shelby Franklin, one of the stage hands, walked up the staircase to us, chewing loudly on a piece of gum, as usual. "What does pretty boy need our help with?" She eyed me skeptically, an eyebrow raised.

The rest of the tech crew followed her, wandering over until they were all gathered around me, Shelby, and Brody. I spotted Angela taking up a place across from Shelby.

Brody shot me a glance.

I nodded to reassure him that I wouldn't forget, then cleared my throat. My joy was practically uncontainable, filling me to the bursting point. _Soon. Ryan is going to be a _star_! _"Alright, guys-"

Shelby cleared her throat, like she always did when she disagreed with, or was offended by something someone said. I wondered to myself how she did that without inhaling her wad of gum. Girls really baffled me.

"And _girls_," I quickly amended.

She gave me a brusque nod.

There were a couple of sniggers, among them, Angela's signature giggle, but I ignored them. I was so _close. Ryan _was. When all eyes were on me again, I went on, "Here's what I'm going to need you to do…"

**A/N: What is Troy's plan? Will Ryan win the lead over Gustav? Find out in the next chapter! I'll see you guys then. **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: This chapter contains a scene of graphic content. If that takes the shine out of your shoes, the back button is there for all your needs. **

** I'd also like to take a moment to do some self-promoting, if I may. I made a 2-part video entitled, "Tryan Moments" that is posted on Youtube. Some of you may have seen it, if not, I recommend watching it. It really reinforces the simple fact that Troy and Ryan's relationship is not just a fabrication of our deluded minds. There really was potential there that Disney shunted in favor of attempting to de-gay a flawless character and condemning another to suicide when his abusive girlfriend cheats on him and leaves him alone in California. Don't give up on this couple, guys. **

** These videos may also come in handy for persuading the more oblivious fans out there that Ryan has no fancy for anything beyond friendship with Kelsi and Troy is um… "flexible" as far as his affections go. **

** Now that that public service announcement is out of the way, I will get back to your regularly scheduled programing. **

Chapter 18

For a half hour that Wednesday and Thursday, Ryan's Juilliard dancer friends, the Berkeley theater tech kids, Kelsi, and I rehearsed "Scintillate".

I had Marceline and Scot distract Ryan so that he wouldn't miss me. Although, he probably figured that something was up. Deceiving him made me feel pretty grimy, _But if- no, _when_ my plan made him a star_, I assured myself, _it would all be worth it_.

On the Friday before the big audition, I surprised Ryan by telling him to put on his best dress clothes. I was taking him out.

Marceline stopped by on our way out the door. She was pretty dressed up herself, wearing some kind of lacy, purple party dress and her long black hair was pulled up in some sort of stylized bun.

"Where are you off to?" I asked.

"To enjoy what New York has to offer," she replied with a sly smile. "And also, since I won't be back until later tomorrow…" she reached down and took Ryan's hand into her own. She fixed him in her brown eyes. "Good luck tomorrow. Break a leg."

"Thank you." Ryan smiled, touched by the gesture.

I offered to walk Marceline to the parking lot, but she declined, promising that she could handle herself. I believed it, with or without the mace she had stowed in her purse.

Kelsi was across the hall, "visiting" with Scot. While sliding my arm into Ryan's, I shot my boyfriend an impish grin and called out, "Hey, play nice, you two!"

"Heed your own advice, Hoopsman!" Kelsi retorted., her voice muffled by the walls and the door.

"I _always _play nice, right?" I looked to Ryan and winked.

He bit down on his lip, failing to hide his smile.

- Swimming-

Ryan let out a gasp when we arrived at the restaurant. It was a sidewalk cafe; the tabletops were made of thick panes of glass, the chairs were ornate and the whole vicinity was illuminated by strung up patio lights. The waiter showed us to our table, and I pulled out Ry's chair for him.

"Troy, you didn't have to-" he started.

I quieted him gently with an affectionate smile as I dropped into my seat. "Sure I did. You deserve to be spoiled every now and then."

He didn't raise any arguments. He knew that he wouldn't be able to change my mind. Besides, after being neglected for so long, I'm sure a part of him relished the attention that I was ever willing to give him.

Midway through the meal of spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread and salads, I noticed that Ryan was pushing the plate on his food around, a blank look on his face. He was pulling into himself again, and I knew what that meant. "Ry?"

He looked up.

I leaned in, lowering my voice. It wasn't the food, we were at a five star restaurant and Ryan loves Italian food. It couldn't have been the prices, between the two of us, we had more than enough to afford everything. And then, the light bulb clicked on. "What's wrong, babe?" I asked, just to make sure.

"It's nothing you did," he assured me. "A part of me has always wanted to re-enact that famous scene from "Lady and The Tramp." He chuckled half-heartedly, wringing his napkin. "My stomach is a cramped up mess," he expressed after a tiny pause, his face at least a shade paler than usual. That basically affirmed it, but I nodded, encouraging him to go on. "Troy, I-I'm so nervous about tomorrow." His voice was subdued and tremulous.

I took his hand into mine and stroked over his knuckles with my thumb, hoping that it would help to calm him. "It's gonna be alright," I promised. "Ry, everyone back home knows that you've got what it takes. Chad, Sharpay, our parents all have faith in you." My eyes locked on his so he could see that I meant every word and wasn't just pulling stuff out of my ass to boost his self-confidence. "Kelsi, Scot, Marceline; they all believe in you. And I _know _that you can do this."

One corner of his mouth turned up in an attempt at a smile. The attempt didn't reach his eyes. "Okay, so, I get the role and become a star, my name in lights on a marquee and I perform for hundreds of people every night. And, after that?" His eyes and inflection grew wistful. "What if I have to leave the state?" Those blue eyes wordlessly added what he didn't say, what he probably couldn't bring himself to.

I felt my heart give a pang, but I swallowed, ignoring it. Squeezing his hand tightly, I assured him, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it alright?"

He nodded.

"Tomorrow, the only thing on your mind is going to be acing that audition, alright?"

"Yes." He gave another nod, his voice more certain than before.

"And, Ryan… No matter what, I'll always love you."

"I know," Ry murmured. A smile slowly worked its way across his face. "I love you, Troy."

"I love you, too, Ry."

- You Make Me Wanna-

When we were back at our apartment, I eased Ryan onto the bed and started rubbing his shoulders, trying to work the tension out of them. If his pleased sighs were anything to go by, I was doing a fairly decent job. As I kneaded into his lower back , the sighs became stifled moans.

"Ohh, Troy… you're so _good_ with your hands…!" Ryan relayed, his voice husky.

I bit down on my lip, my cock giving a twitch. "Thank you," I remarked, shifting my weight to better accommodate my hard-on.

My hands wandered, dipping under his waist band. He arched his hips into my touch, his breathing rapid and heavy.

I muffled a moan, the heat between my legs intensifying as my cock strained against my dress slacks. "Aah! Ry!" I grunted as softly as possible.

The next thing I knew, Ryan was nipping at my neck as he undid the buttons on my collar. His lips brushed over my neck, up to my jaw. I slid his dress shirt down, revealing the almost luminous skin of his narrow shoulders and lean arms.

I kissed my way along his shoulder until he had me pull back so he could get my shirt out of the way.

Soon, we were naked, our chests pressed together as I lay on top of him. Slowly, we leaned into a kiss, Ry's hand stroking through my hair and my hands tracing from his ribs to his pelvis.

"Love you, Ryan!" I gasped as I broke off to nuzzle his cheek and nose.

"Love you, too, Troy… Love you so much!" He breathed. His expression of love was punctuated with a gasp as he bucked up, making our rock-hard dicks meet.

I threw my head back, my eyes rolling as shockwaves of pure pleasure coursed through my entire body.

Ry let out a cry of bliss and arousal that shot directly down to between my legs. He pulled me down, taking my hands into his and guided my larger hands toward his hips. The calloused pads of my fingers rubbed against his silky skin. I could tell that I was making him feel _incredible_, and that was such a huge turn on for me.

And then, after some whispers of desire, I was inside of him, thrusting deep and hard, filling him just like he asked me to. While we made love, we looked into each other's blue eyes and there was nothing but love there; an endless sea of love, love, love that stretched on forever, and we were swimming in it.

- Our Last Summer-

The next morning, I woke up to find Ryan curled up against my chest. I moved to stretch and scratch my head as best I could without disturbing him only for him to turn up and face me.

"Good morning." He blinked his blue eyes at me, a faint smile on his pink lips.

"Hey. Morning." I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, raising a hand to rub at them. "Today's the big day, huh?"

"Yeah. It is." Ryan's eyes sparkled with excitement and something else.

I brought my hand down to squeeze his neck gently, hoping that the reassuring gesture would get rid of that "something else". "My snoring didn't wake you up, did it?"

He could tell that I was trying to change the subject, but he played along. "Troy, I've told you before. You don't snore."

"You sure?" I lowered my voice even though no one else could have heard us. "'Cause my dad snores, _really loud_. And when he has a cold, he sounds like a bear." I imitated my dad's snoring, wrapping my arms tightly around Ryan like I was ensnaring him.

He laughed, not bothering to fend me off. "I don't think snoring is hereditary!"

"Well, that's _definitely _a good thing." Moving in, I pecked him on the corner of his mouth. My eyes fell to meet his. "How's your stomach?"

"Better."

"Good." I smiled and flicked him on the nose. "Come on. Let's go eat."

He easily rolled off of me and onto the floor where he just as effortlessly popped upright and offered me his hand. If I tried that, I probably would have just fallen over. After Ry hauled me out of bed with a strength that few people would expect him to have, we pulled on our boxers and made our way to the kitchen.

There, Ryan helped me make blueberry pancakes. Yeah, I know. I should have been able to make them on my own, but, like I said, toast, peanut butter and jelly and peanut butter and banana sandwiches are about the full extent of my culinary abilities. Besides, Ryan's arm against mine, his hand over mine as he showed me the proper way to flip the pancake batter, it was sort of hot in its own unique way.

The fact that we were standing around in only our underwear was a special bonus in itself. I've never been comfortable enough around anyone to just causally chill in my boxers, until Ryan, that is. In the locker rooms, it's different. Everyone is pretty self-conscious, even that one jerk who struts around in nothing, showing off all of his equipment and practically daring the other guys to check him out. No one wants to get caught staring at another guy's junk, even if they're just mentally comparing his size to their own to see who's better equipped. Athletes are pretty judgmental.

But, I'm getting off topic.

After breakfast, we prepared for the rest of the day. Ry's audition was at ten o'clock. He stood there for a while, pensively considering which of several outfits would be the best for making an impression on the casting directors.

"Um, I don't know much about fashion, but I think that white shirt looks good," I offered.

Ry looked between me and the plain white dress shirt that I had suggested. After a moment, his face lit up with a realization and he exclaimed, "Of course! If I dress conservatively, it will let my abilities stand out!" He grabbed my face and dived in, giving me a swift peck on the cheek. "Troy, you're a genius!"

As he snatched his clothes up and dashed into the bathroom to get ready, I set a hand against the spot on my cheek where his lips had been, grinning dopily.

When he emerged from the bathroom a half hour later, I couldn't help but stare. Aside from the white shirt that was so clean, it was practically shining, Ryan wore black pants that flattered every hot as hell curve on his lower body, and a blue scarf that brought out the blue of his eyes.

"How does this look?"

I walked over to him. "Ry, _babe_, you look. _Fantastic_," I marveled.

"Thank you." He shuffled his feet, his cheeks flushing a little. "But…" he added, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he scanned the room. "It's missing something." Ry moved past me to get something at the far end of the room. I caught a glimpse of blue as he set what must have been a hat on his blond head.

My _hat_, I realized.

He turned the brim to the side to add his own Ryan-esque flair. What can I say? It was just the right touch. He was _beautiful_, and if that alone wasn't enough to make an impression, the minute he opened his mouth, or pivoted those hips, the audience would be so completely in love with him, they would be rendered speechless.

"Ryan, I, you…" I was just about overcome by everything. My heart felt like it was rising into my throat and ready to gush out of my mouth. I took his slender hands into mine, stroking over his thumbs.

He leaned into me, his eyelashes veiling his eyes, and then, his gaze fell to the wristwatch his dad got him for Christmas. Moving away, he explained to my look of confusion, "I have to go."

"Okay." I swept him into a hug and murmured against his ear, "Break a leg, babe."

"You know it." On his way out the door, he swallowed and flashed me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If all else fails, I could always do a jazz square."

""Crowd favorite", right?"

"Troy, _everybody _loves a good jazz square."

I gave him a last lingering look, a smile on his lips. He was going to win some hearts. He waved, wiggling his fingers. I returned the action. Once the door clicked shut behind him, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Kelsi's number. "Kels," I said, "showtime."

- Scintillate-

Outside the auditorium at Juilliard, I could hear an unfamiliar male voice with a distinct French accent belting out the last part of the chorus of "Scintillate". _Gustav_, my mental voice rationalized.

Grudgingly, I admitted to myself that he was good. _Really _good. _But, Ryan is so much better_.

Kelsi and I walked between Luc and Celeste as the dancers lead us to the backstage area. We might have been small town kids overwhelmed by the big city, but we were going to help one of our own outshine them all.

"Alright." I could hear Brody communicating to the Berkely stage crew. "You guys all know the drill, right?"

"Obviously," Shelby scoffed. I could picture her giving a disgusted eye-roll for good measure.

"Shel, don't be so harsh," Angela put in. "Let Brody talk."

Turning over my shoulder, I caught Brody's eye and gave him a thumb-up for encouragement. During the school days, I had been giving him advice on winning Angela, just like I promised. "Be confident, dude. Chicks dig confidence!" I had told him. So far, it seemed to be working.

He shot me a quick half-smile and went on, reminding everyone that Ian, the light operator, might need help with his aim. Shelby volunteered.

As Gustav was finishing, we took our places. I had to resist the temptation to peek out from behind the backstage area and try to find Ryan. Kelsi was assigned that task. She was smaller, so she would draw less attention. Although Gustav's voice was good, he had stolen Ryan's song and changed it from a gripping, soul-filled power ballad into some cheesy pop song. Hell, _he _didn't do anything. His pianist did that for him. _We_ would sing it the way Ryan intended it to be sung.

_So they'll finally see_

_ The light_

Gustav held out the last note, throwing in a ton of slurs.

I stuck a finger in my ear to make sure that it wasn't bleeding.

"Bravo, Gustav!" A man's voice exclaimed.

"Yes, bravo," a woman added with less enthusiasm.

_Those must be the casting directors! _I noted to myself.

"So, you say you've starred in _seventeen _productions throughout your "extensive" career?" The woman inquired.

"_Oui_, _mademoiselle_. The directors were pleased to have me in all of them."

"Uh-huh." Her voice was dead-pan.

After a moment, the male director called out, "Next, please!"

I felt Kelsi nudge me. "Troy, it's Ryan!"

My heart missed a beat. The last time someone uttered similar words, I had found Ryan laying on a kitchen floor with two broken ribs and bruises on his face. Now, he was going to take New York by storm. I turned back to Brody and the Juilliard kids. "This is it, guys!" I whispered. "Go time."

"Roger that." Brody spoke to his crew around him and into the headset mic. "Get ready, everyone."

Gustav clopped off the stage.

Brody held his fingers out and began counting down. "5. 4."

I swallowed, trying to calm myself. Kelsi squeezed my arm reassuringly. This had to work. It _had _to.

"3. 2," Brody continued.

Angela moved to grab the cord of the curtains. Another guy, Fernando, manned the light box. Fernando had learned the ins and outs of the Juilliard light box so well, he told me, that he could "operate it in his sleep".

Kelsi peeked out quickly, then gave me the thumbs up to let me know that Ryan was a safe distance away so that he wouldn't stumble and bang himself up or fall.

"1."

The lights went out almost instantly. Angela closed the curtain.

"Troy, we're on!" Celeste whispered. She took hold of my hand and hurriedly, we raced onto the stage.

"What the-?" I heard a voice inquire.

There were more confused murmurings and demands to know what was going on from the people sitting in the house.

Celeste, Luc and the others took their places, lining up behind me. I felt my blood pulsing in my ears. The curtains opened and then the warm glow of a single spotlight was on me. My heart felt like it would explode. _For Ryan_, I reminded myself, thinking of the way my beautiful blond boyfriend always put his feelings aside for me. So, I sang out the words to Ryan's song, my voice resonating despite the small quaver in it.

_United, our bodies combined_

_ We'll let the boundaries fall_

_ They can tell us we're wrong _

_ For being together,_

Sure enough, Ryan's light, clear alto-tenor voice rose up. Another spotlight fell on him, giving him an unearthly radiance as it guided him to the stage.

_But we'll prove to them_

_ We're right after all_

By the time he reached the steps, I was there to meet him.

_Just,_

_ Ignite it_, Ry sang.

I reached out and he took my hand, then, he grabbed hold of my other hand. We were practically nose to nose and the intensity of the sparkle in his eyes could have killed me. Instantly, we were in another world. A world all our own. We sang together, our voices creating that pitch perfect harmony.

_And baby, we'll be blazin'!_

Together, we moved to center stage, our foreheads brushing.

_We will_

_ Scintillate_

On cue, the other lights came on, illuminating the rest of the stage. The dancers stepped forward, joining with the backing vocals as the music kicked on and we launched into Ryan's choreography.

_We'll be so great_

_ That together_

_ We'll eclipse the sun_

_ In the dark of the night_

_ Two will become one_

_ The passion of my soul_

_ Lies where you lay_

_ Tonight_

_ So, let's _

_ Scintillate,_

_ And blind the world_

_ So they'll finally see_

_ The light_

The chorus fell back, lowering their voices as they counted us in: _2-3-4-5-6-7-8_

_ 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-_

On the beat after the seven, Ry stepped forward, his voice filling the room.

_When I'm away from you _He moved to stage left away from me.

_My spark is dimmed_

_ And my soul begins to break_ He clutched at his mid-section, adopting a pained expression. Jumping back upright, he crossed to me at the same time I crossed to him.

_Don't let them separate us, _

_ Baby_

_ No_, I promised, twirling him into me.

_Stand strong_

_ And soon they'll learn_

_ To take us for all that we are, _we sang together.

Ry heightened the pitch of his voice, his cry ringing throughout the huge auditorium.

_Take me for all that I am!_

The musical accompaniment fell to almost complete silence. Ryan and I stayed perfectly still as Luc, Celeste, and the rest of them danced along to punctuate their chant.

_S-H-I-N-E_

_ S-H-I-N-E_

Ry and I started a sort of erotic dance, his body sliding and grinding against mine as we stepped in a circular formation to the counter-beats. It had taken me _forever _to get this part, minus the grinding, down in rehearsals. But, Ryan, like always, seemed to bring the dancer out in me. He's just so easy to dance with.

I sang out my part, building on top of the hushed chanting as it gradually increased in volume.

_Take us, or leave us_

_ Either way, you will_

_ Believe in us_

_ Take us, or leave us_

_ Either way, you will_

_ Believe in us_

Ryan came in next. Taking hold of my hands, he guided them down toward his pelvis. My voice cracked twice as I nearly let out a groan at the sound of pure _vocal sex _coming out of his musical mouth:

_Oh! Oh, we'll persist,_

_ Take, t-take us for_

_ What we are_

_ Yeah, mm_

_ What we are_

_ Oh, oh, oh!_

_ We'll do it, yeah _He turned back to me and, looking into my eyes, he raised our hands up.

_You and me _Then, he let go.

_Baby_

As he held the note out, running it with incredible vocal power and precision that stirred my heart, I propelled myself off of the stage and into the center aisle, one spotlight following me.

_Come on, Patrick Swayze_, I thought fervently, _don't fail me, now!_

When Ryan finished, he inhaled quickly and immediately caught on like I knew he would. Our breath rates under control, we sang out:

_We will_

_ Scintillate_

"Oh!" Ryan exclaimed as he dived off the stage, taking a leap of faith into my arms. I held him up, high above my head. Some cheers went up around us. Ryan and I beamed into each other's eyes. As I lowered him slowly, I could feel his heart racing against mine.

_We'll be so great_

_ That together, we'll eclipse_

_ The sun _

I twirled Ryan out, where he kicked up his leg impressively, then, we split, me taking the steps on stage right as he took the steps at stage left.

_Yeah, block it out _I belted out, tossing my hair.

We met at center stage, Ry thrusting his hips in a mesmerizing fashion.

_In the dark of the night_

_ Two will become one_

_ A little deeper, _Ryan conveyed in a low voice. He drew me in, laying a caressing hand on my cheek.

_Don't be afraid_

The voices of the chorus members joined ours as we changed keys.

_The passion of my soul_

_ Lies where you lay_

_ Tonight_

_ So let's _

_ Scintillate_

_ And blind the world_

_ So they'll finally see the light_

_Oh, see the light_ Ryan vocalized melodiously.

_We'll prove to them we're right_, I added, scooping Ryan into my arms

_We're right, we're all right, _he promised me, his honesty wrenching my heart as he nuzzled his nose against mine.

When Ry's feet were back on the ground, I looked to him, asking if we were going for a "big finish".

He nodded ever so slightly.

At the same time the chorus froze in place singing: _They will, _Ryan and I linked hands and jumped, singing, _We will_.

When we landed, I picked Ry up, bridal style. He wrapped one arm around my neck to help support his weight, even though it wasn't necessary. He flung his arm out while I simultaneously began raising mine.

_Scintillate_

After Ryan finished putting 110% of himself into every note of the vocal run he threw in, all of us held our positions. Bam, the music ended on a strong chord.

I looked over to where Kelsi stood backstage, clapping wildly, wearing an expression of pride and awe.

A few of the audience members were on their feet, applauding. Then, my eyes returned to Ryan and we shared a long, meaningful look.

"_Thank you_," he mouthed, his blue eyes brimming with love.

"_Don't thank me, yet_," I whispered.

"Sweetie, what's your name?" The voice of the male director inquired, breaking us out of the spell we were under. Startled, I squinted out past the glare of the stage lights to find two figures on their feet, a couple rows away from the stage.

Ry and I exchanged a glance, then I carefully set him back down on his feet as he answered, "Ryan Evans, sir."

The director exchanged a look with the woman next to him; the female director.

"Ryan," the female director spoke up, her authoritative voice echoing off the walls. "You have a very fluid energy, a vitality in your movements."

Ry's eyes widened subtly. "Th-Thank you, ma'am!"

The woman gave a nod, accepting his gratitude. "Coupled with your voice," she went on, "you have a raw sexuality to you."

Ryan swallowed. He nodded slightly, again, receiving the compliment. At least, I was hoping with everything I had that it was a compliment.

"Ryan," the guy director spoke up again, "could you come down here so we can get a better look at you?"

I saw Kelsi nudge Fernando. Getting it, he quickly turned the house lights on.

Turning to Ryan, I gave him a nod of encouragement, then let him go. My heart clenched. Whatever happened now, it was out of my hands.

Ryan's posture was rigid as he walked, like he was on his way to the gallows.

I crossed my fingers, my insides quaking. He had to get the part. _There's no way that everything we've been through adds up to nothing! Ryan _deserves _the lead!_

About a foot away from the two directors, Ryan halted. There was silence as they looked him over. Celeste and Luc shuffled their feet behind me, their faces anxious, just like mine probably was.

"You have a very nice face," the woman, a very dignified figure with auburn hair and wearing a woman's suit get-up that you'd find in one of those fashion magazines, observed.

"Smooth, youthful," the man, a lean brunette also dressed like a fashion model, added.

Another blond rose out of his seat. "Excuse me-!" He began, his French accent sharp with discontent. It was Gustav, obviously.

"Quiet!" The woman director snapped.

I smirked as the reprimand caused Gustav to shut his trap.

"What do you think?" The woman turned to an older woman who sort of looked like Ms. Darbus. I made a guess that Darbus 2.0 was one of Ry's teachers.

"Ryan is one of my top students. In fact, he won a scholarship based on his impressive work in his high school's senior year spring musical," she said, affirming my supposition.

"Then, it's settled," the woman director announced. She extended her hand. "Ryan, I'm Margaret Chapman. This," she gestured to the man next to her, "is Anthony Bishop, my brother-in-law and partner."

"How do you do?" Anthony greeted, shaking Ryan's hand.

"Fine, thank you!" Ryan choked out.

"We're very pleased to welcome you," Margaret started. At that same moment, my heart began hammering.

"Pardon me, _mademoiselle_," Gustav interjected, again, jumping out of his seat. His inflection gave away how flustered he was. "But it is specifically stated on your website that your star _must _be bilingual!"

Margaret turned to Ryan. "Can you speak French?"

"_Oui_," Ryan answered. "_Je peux parler en français et en espagnol_."

"There you have it," Margaret retorted.

Gustav let out a scoff of indignation.

I was so happy, I thought my heart was going to explode.

"Everyone!" Anthony declared. "Our star has officially been cast!"

There was a collective inhalation from all around me.

"Ryan," Margaret said, "We're pleased to give you the starring role. You are a perfect fit."

"R-Really?" Ryan stammered incredulously.

"Really!" Anthony affirmed, clasping his hands together. "Say "hello" to Broadway!"

Backstage, Kelsi gave a delighted bounce.

Luc and Celeste jumped up and down together, so giddy, they were practically squealing.

For a moment, Ryan stood there, too awestruck to really react, and then he turned back to me.

"Yes!" I called out, rejoicing and hoping that it would help him realize what he had achieved. I pumped my fist. "_Yes_!"

It was enough for it to sink in. A big, Ryan smile spread across his face.

Ryan and I ran to meet each other, embracing tightly when we did.

"You did it, Ry! You did it!"

"No, Troy." He shook his head. "_We _did it!"

Lifting him off the ground, I twirled him, our lips locking in a celebratory kiss. We really had done it. Despite the obstacles, in spite of everything that nearly made us give up, I was the co-captain of the NY Berkeley Knights' basketball team, more than ready to help lead his team to victory in the championship game and, Ryan Evans was _finally _going to be the star that he deserved to be.

When we broke the kiss, Ryan looked into my eyes. "Troy, I-_thank _you." His gaze moved to encompass the stage. "All of you, _thank you_."

There were smiles all around from the group of Juilliard kids. "You're welcome, Mr. Choreographer," a beaming Kelsi returned as she stepped out of hiding.

Ryan requited her smile with his own heart-melting one.

"This is entirely unfair!" Gustav protested, his eyes narrowed and face reddened. "I am _far _more talented and competent than this-this sparkling, sequined-hat-wearing-!"

I was half-ready to launch myself at him when, to the surprise of everyone, Kelsi retorted, "Is that why you had to _steal _Ryan's song?"

Gustav's eyes widened for an instant. Even though managed to collect himself, he wasn't _nearly _as skilled as Ryan.

"Gustav Lalonde!" Darbus 2.0 exclaimed. "You committed _plagiarism_?"

"I-I did not!" Gustav objected. "I have no idea what she's talking about!"

"She's telling the truth!" Celeste insisted.

"We all rehearsed this song with Ryan. Gustav, you are a poor liar and a dreadfully pathetic actor," Luc added, adjusting his scarf to emphasize his sassy retort.

"Mr. Lalonde," Darbus 2.0 spoke up again, her voice scathing, "the board is going to hear about this. Something as utterly detestable as plagiarism results in expulsion."

"This is _unacceptable_! Your "board" will be hearing from my parents!" And with that, Gustav embodied a true diva asshole and stormed out, his snobby nose in the air.

"_Au revoir_-" Ryan started.

"-asshole," I finished.

As everyone else bustled around, Ryan laid a hand on my cheek and drew me in. "Love you, Troy." He stared at out at me from under his eyelashes, his eyes glowing softly with adulation.

"Love you, too, Ryan."

He put his hands on my face and drew me into a tender kiss. Everything was turning out to be just how we wanted it to be. There was nothing to stand in our way anymore.

**A/N: Or is there still something that could prove to be an adversity to overcome for our twosome? The next chapter holds all the answers. Until then, my dearest readers. **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: This is it, guys. **

** I want to thank all of you who have stuck with me, Troy, and Ryan from the beginning. This story started out as an essay, of sorts. I only intended for it be Troy sort of rambling about his two best friends, and how he fell in love with Ryan. From there, it began budding until it became the first seven chapters. I meant to end the story there, with a small epilogue talking about Troy and Ryan's college years.**

** Yet, inspiration struck. I kept writing, and this story continued to blossom. Now, it's become the story that you guys have read and reviewed, and I just can't thank you enough for it. I've gotten discouraged plenty of times, but knowing that you have a story to tell, and a wonderful audience, is often enough incentive to keep going. **

** Worry not, though. This is not the end, my dear readers. I fully plan to continue writing Tryan as long as I live, and I'm not quite finished with this particular universe yet. **

** As always, I shall cease my yammering, and proceed with the chapter that you have been patiently waiting for.**

**Warning: This chapter contains love-making between two young men. If love that defies the boundaries of gender churns your stomach, I suggest taking a prescribed dosage of clicking the back button.**

Chapter 19

When Ryan and I broke off, Darbus 2.0, whose real name turned out to be Mrs. Magnolynd, apologized to Ryan for the misunderstanding about the author of "Scintillate".

"Oh, it's alright," Ry assured her with that lethal smile of his."It's behind us, now."

Margaret and Anthony took Ryan aside to hand him a copy of the rehearsal schedule.

"Opening night is next month," Margaret informed him.

Ryan's blue eyes stretched wide.

"But," Anthony looked to his sister in law before assuring Ryan, "we know you can handle it. Otherwise, we wouldn't have picked you."

"I-I'm honored", Ry expressed, his voice tight. He cleared his throat, then added in a much more confident tone, "I won't let you down."

I knew he wouldn't.

- Fucking Perfect-

When Ryan called to let his folks know, Sharpay let out a squeal of delight that left our ears ringing, like only Sharpay can.

"I know!" Ryan exclaimed in response, his face luminous.

Again, I found myself feeling like my heart was just going to burst from the strength of my joy. I was seriously considering taking Ryan and making hot love to him a good seven or eight times, right there.

Sharpay put their parents on the line. Trading a smile with Ryan, I leaned in close, pressing my cheek against his so that I could hear, too.

"My Ducky, my baby! A star!" Mrs. Evans's voice was shaky, overcome by emotion.

"Son, we're all so proud of you," Mr. Evans said. I thought I heard his voice crack, just a little, but I might have imagined it.

"Make sure you tell us when the opening night is. We wouldn't want to miss this for _anything_, dear."

"I will, mom. I'll even buy everyone tickets!" Ryan replied, the smile on his face basically smothering me with the joy that it caused.

"That's my boy, Ryan!"

Ryan's sky colored eyes sparkled with moisture. "Thank you, dad."

I nudged Ry gently, then wrapped my arm around him.

That night, Marceline, Kelsi, and Scot joined us for celebratory drinks.

"I told you you were a shoo-in!" Kelsi exclaimed.

"Two small town boys," Marceline mused, a smile on her lips.

"I guess Steve Perry was on to something." Scot gave Ryan a light pat on the shoulder.

"I guess so!" I replied, messing with Ryan's hat.

Ry didn't mind, as always. He simply fixed it, the zealous smile not leaving his face. "Hey, we "held on to that feeling", right?"

Kelsi, Marceline, and I laughed.

"Yeah, Ry." I nuzzled against his smooth cheek. "Yeah we did."

As the night wore on, Kelsi remained sober. Scot had only a few drinks, so that way, Kels wouldn't be left alone to deal with a bunch of drunk, stumbling, and slurring buffoons. The music kicked on, and I danced first with Kelsi, who was sort of flushed and giggly, probably because I'm not as suave with alcohol in my system, and I most likely looked like an idiot, and then I danced with Marceline. Both girls were light on their feet, Marceline was basically leading me, but, as always, no one could compare to Ryan, even while he was giggly and wobbly with intoxication.

Kelsi and Marceline got Scot up and dancing with us. He and Kelsi slow danced before Marceline cut in for a turn with our little composer.

At some point, my head ended up on someone's cleavage, and then on Ry's lap. After everyone departed with hugs and kisses on cheeks to bid farewell, Ryan and I started coming down from our high.

"I can't believe it!" He marveled.

"Believe it, babe," I replied, nuzzling into his neck and nipping lightly at his creamy skin.

He sighed happily, his body melting into our bed like he had no bones. The disbelief and something else didn't leave his voice, though. I could feel the vibrations of his throat against my lips. "I almost thought that it would take _years _to get to this point."

"You already worked for years to get here." I smiled softly. It showed in every performance just how long he had been working for this.

He let out another sigh. "You know, Troy."

"Mmm?" I murmured, raising my head.

He turned to face me, his half closed eyes locking on mine as they glittered softly under his lashes. "You could have easily gotten the lead instead of me."

My eyes widened, the euphoria momentarily falling away. "What?" I wanted to make sure that I had heard him correctly. Because that was ridiculous.

He stared back at me, still a little tipsy, but dead serious. His cheeks were flushed, his collar undone, showing off that luscious creamy skin. His blue eyes were so full of longing, like he was just begging to be ravished. My dick and my heart both ached for him. He was about as vulnerable as I had ever seen him, opening himself up to me completely, revealing the insecurities that he had locked away, the feelings of self-doubt that he had never let anyone else see. The self-doubt that anyone would have after years of living in the shadow of their self-absorbed sibling.

Self-doubt that was partially my fault, too. Shame burned my face. "_Me_? No." I took his face gently into my hands. "Ryan, you were _perfect_. You _are perfect_."

His eyes were suddenly moist. I'm pretty sure that he had never heard anything like that before in his life. And that made me sad. Unbearably sad, because he is perfect. Ryan inhaled sharply, leaning into me. His smaller hand slid over my larger one where it rested on his soft, smooth face. "Troy…" he whispered. His breath was on my face. For a moment, our breathing was the only sound, then, our lips met. My tongue entered his mouth, and his beautiful pianist's hands guided my hand to his wonderful round ass, then found their way under my shirt. He caressed my chest, my abs, my back down to my ass. I pulled him closer, grinding my rock hard dick into his.

"Fuck…!" I gasped out. His mouth latched onto my neck, the heat driving me crazy as his adorable overbite left a new hickey right above my collarbone. God, it felt _amazing_. He undid my fly with ease, sliding my pants down my waist.

I wanted him, too. My cock stood upright in my boxers to prove it. Fumbling at first, because my hands were shaking with the strength of my need, I managed to unfasten his fancy belt buckle.

A low sigh that bordered on a groan came from him as I skillfully popped his fly, freeing his big, beautiful cock from the clingy fabric it was straining against. My hands grazed the bulge bunched up in his tight white boxers. He arched back, and arousal shot through me. I couldn't resist touching him, squeezing his fantastic dick.

"Aah!" He whimpered, leaning into me. The flush darkened on his pale face. His palm pressed into my hard on.

I grunted, biting down on my lower lip. He squeezed me again, the sensation shooting through my body. It felt _so good_. While I was in mid-moan, he captured my mouth with his again, his tongue slipping in. I moaned into his kiss, my tongue twining with his and scraping over the warm, moist, pink muscle. I could taste him, and the slight fruitiness of the cocktail he'd had earlier, and holy fuck. I wanted him _so freaking much_!

He knew it, too. Ry squirmed his way out of his boxers, never taking his eyes from mine. When the annoying ass pieces of clothing were a little past his knees, I helped tug them the rest of the way off. I took in his beautifully shaped pale legs that were so white, they practically glowed in the dark. "Ohh, Ryan. _Ryan_. You are so _beautiful_."

"Mmmm…" He moaned, coaxing me in. My hands ran up his legs until I was about a centimeter away from his totally fantastic and breathtaking cock.

"Ry, oh, Ryan. I want you," I moaned, my voice almost a growl.

He whimpered, and I could tell that he wanted this and needed this every bit as much as I did. "A-Are you sure you want to?" He breathed. A loud gasp escaped him as my lips brushed against the swollen head, and my warm breath ghosted over it.

Even without the alcohol in my system, I'm dead positive that my answer would be the same if he asked me right now. "Yes, babe. One hundred ten percent sure."

The breathless sound of sheer and utter pleasure that left Ryan's throat when my warm mouth engulfed his hot, throbbing cock slowly, inch by inch, is a sound that I'll carry with me and cherish forever. I'm not sure if it was the alcohol, or that Ryan had never experienced this before, or, if maybe I was better than I thought, but moans and cries burst out of Ryan, filling the room, and my ears. It drove me insane. Every whimper, groan, gasp, and moan that his musical mouth produced, felt nearly as good getting my own dick stroked. I fondled his balls, remembering what he did to make me feel like some sort of god. In reaction, he tugged gently at my hair, then moved to massage the back of my neck.

"Troy… oh, Troy- _ahh_!"

Extreme pleasure coursed through me.

"Yes, Troy! Yes, yes, yes! Ohh..!"

I couldn't fit all of him in my mouth, the way that he deep-throated me, but that was okay. Neither of us cared. We were too busy loving every second of it.

By the time his cock gave a twitch of warning under the insistent flicking of my tongue, I could feel myself ready to come _hard_ in my boxers.

"Oh, Troy… Troy!" Ryan jerked once, and then he filled my mouth. It took me a moment to handle the thick, hot, salty substance, but I swallowed it, not wanting Ryan to feel bad.

Chad would tell me that there was no going back, now. Once you have another man's dick in your mouth, you might as well turn in your "desire to be with girls" card.

I'd counter him with, "As if I ever could go back. As if I ever _want_ to."

Ryan buckled against me, his chest moving as he panted softly. His uneven, but completely satisfied breaths were all that I needed. I twitched once, twice, then came, whispering his name.

We sat there for a moment, his face buried in my neck as I stroked through the wisps of hair on the back of his neck. Ryan was a star. He was going to take the world by storm in a month. He had done it, and _fuck_, I loved him.

Like we were synched up, I turned to him at the same moment he turned to meet me. Our lips pressed together, lingering. When I pulled away, Ryan smiled that destructive smile of his. "Thank you."

I returned it. "Anytime."

Once we were cleaned up, we kissed again, rolling around for a few minutes, and then, we just lay there.

"I love you so much, Ryan. So fucking much. You're everything to me, you know that?" I stared into his eyes as I traced his hand where it lay on the pillow between our faces.

"Yes." He nodded.

My voice grew serious, and I'm sure my eyes reflected it. I put my hand over his, threading my fingers through his. "I wanna spend the rest of my life with you."

He sniffled, his eyes watering slightly. I hoped that he wasn't going to cry. A flush crept over his porcelain face. "Oh, _god_, Troy. Are you proposing?"

"Maybe," I replied. My eyes fell to his lips, and we joined our mouths together one final time before he drew into me.

"I love you," he whispered. We both knew that if he had tried to speak any louder, his voice would have cracked.

"I love you, too." I whispered back for the same reason.

My last thought before I slipped into unconsciousness was reflecting on the fact that Ry is a total cuddler, but that's okay, because I'm one, too.

- In Too Deep-

Jake strolled down the hallway beside me. He was filling me in on the details of his weekend after I had excitedly told him about Ryan's successful audition. I just barely stopped myself from bursting in the door and yelling out the news so that everyone in ear shot could hear.

"Wow! _Really_?" Jake's eyes had lit up, but he didn't seem to struggle with volume control, like I had.

"_Really_, man." I broke into a broad grin. "Ryan's finally gonna live out his dream!"

"Congratulations. I'm really happy for both of you." He had patted my shoulder before going on to tell me that, "My weekend wasn't quite as excitin' as yours." He and Charlotte spent their weekend playing video games together. "She showed me up, pretty much handing me my ass," Jake relayed. With a wide grin he added, "It was _awesome_!"

When he started talking about gaming strategies and upgrades, I was sort of tuning him out. That didn't mean that I was any less enthusiastic for him. "That's fantastic, buddy."

"I'm one lucky S.O.B!"

A poster announcing our upcoming game against the Massachusetts Minutemen caught my eye. I read over the information idly, not really considering any of it: the location, the time, and then, I got to the date. February 26th. The same date on Ryan's script. The exact same date that his show was scheduled to make its Broadway debut.

I felt like the floor dropped out from underneath me. The only sound was my blood pounding in my ears. _Fuck, no_.

"Troy? Hey, Troy, man. You alright?" Sound came rushing back as Jake's voice broke through.

I shook my head, feeling dazed and a little nauseous, like someone had just punched me in the gut.

"Troy?"

I turned to Jake. "I'll be fine," I assured him. I cleared my throat so that my voice would be stronger. "Go ahead to class, man."

"You sure?" He touched my shoulder.

"Yeah." I watched Jake slowly walk off, then put a hand to my head, exhaling exasperatedly. _Great. _Just freaking _great_.

- My Happy Ending -

""The same day", huh?" Ryan repeated, his voice level.

"Yeah," I adjusted the phone to rub at the back of my neck.

"Troy, I-I don't want you to miss your big game for me. I know how important this championship would be to your dad, and how important it is to you."

"I know, baby, but…" My stomach flipped over. This was so _cosmically _unfair. "I wanna be there for you, too."

"I know you do." I pictured him, his head hanging as he chewed anxiously at his lower lip. He couldn't miss his show for me, either. There was just no way.

Around me, I could hear the murmurs and shuffling of feet from the cafeteria.

"But, hey," Ry went on, his tone significantly lighter, "we've gotten through _so_ much worse. You always find a way to persevere."

"Yeah." A small smile started working its way onto my face.

"And there will always be other shows," Ryan continued to assure me. His voice was completely free of sarcasm or accusations, like always. I could just pick up something, though, that told me that his voice was almost _too _light and cheery. It was unnatural.

I wanted to take him home and kiss him senseless, so that he wouldn't have to pretend to be happy for my sake. "Yeah."

"If I was there with you, I would take you into my arms, and caress your cheek and just hold onto you."

My heart felt like it melted from the longing in his voice.

"Hey, Troy!" Jake called from across the cafeteria.

"Is everything alright?" Charlotte added.

"Ry, I'll see you at home, okay?"

He let out a light chuckle. "Okay, Troy. You have a fantastic day at school." His tone was free of that unnatural, forced cheeriness.

"You, too, babe."

"I love you, Troy." I felt like I was enveloped in the velvety warmth of that melodious utterance.

"I love you, too, Ryan."

- Fix You -

I got back from basketball practice first, and kicked off my shoes and switched on the TV to wait for Ryan. One of those extraordinarily stupid reality shows that Ry detests, but I find secretly amusing, was on. One girl was going _off _on another for her attitude, or something. I couldn't tell, because every other word was bleeped out. It was offensive as _hell_, and I felt bad, but I couldn't help snorting and laughing. "What the _hell_?" I asked myself out loud. "Are they for real?"

When my eyes fell to the clock and the time registered in my mind, I figured I would clean the place up. Surprise Ryan. I went around and collected up the little bits of trash; a bottle of Gatorade, an empty bottle of water, a few crumbs. I put the bottles in the recycle. In our room, I found little bits of paper on the floor. The fringes off the edges of notebook paper. The tiny trashcan was nearly overflowing with wadded up paper balls.

Curious, I picked one of the balls up and opened it. There was a block of text in Ry's neat penmanship. Lyrics? Yeah, they had to be. About halfway down the page, there was another block that was entirely scribbled out. In my mind's eye, I saw Ryan from a week before, desperately writing, his brows furrowed, tapping his chin with the end of his pen, and then scribbling furiously, trying hard as he could to make something beautiful and perfect, before lowering his head defeatedly. I picked up a couple more paper balls. They were all the same, blocks of text, meant to be lyrics, that had groups of verses scribbled out. Ryan wasn't fucking kidding when he said that the words just wouldn't come to him.

Even still, what he had jotted down was _far _from bad. "Ry, you are _way_ too hard on yourself," I murmured. Then again, who am I to talk? Since grade school, I've been Mr. Do What Everyone Expects Me To Do, and Be What Everyone Expects Me To Be. At least the only standards Ryan was forcing himself to live up to, were his own.

I carried the trash and the recycle to the receptacles in the first floor lobby. When I came back, Ry was standing in the front room.

"Uh, surprise!" He shuffled his feet in an awkward way that still managed to be totally adorable as he moved aside, and gestured to a box of pizza on the table.

"Ohh, Ryan, you!" Happiness rushed into me. Grinning, I took Ryan into a hug, screwing up the tilt of his hat. "you always know _exactly _how to cheer me up."

I felt the heat coming off of his cheek as he blushed. "It sort of comes with the job description, you know?" He pulled back, smiling softly as he caressed my cheek and just held me, exactly like he said. Wrapped up in Ryan's lean arms, I felt safe and secure, like all my troubles had been tossed into the wind, and the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

"And that's why you're the best boyfriend in the entire world," I remarked, adding after a second, "and the _hottest _pizza delivery boy." He rolled his eyes, the smile not leaving his face, and I kissed his forehead and gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze.

The cheese on the pizza was still gooey and melty, just the way we liked it. One half was plain cheese, the other was pepperoni. It was perfect.

That night, we ate pizza, watched crappy movies on HBO, and cuddled. Ryan would criticize the actors. I'd critique the special effects. I joked that if everything fell through, we could always become film critiques.

"A gay Siskel and Ebert, huh?" Ry nudged me, laughing.

"Oh yeah." I smirked. "And if the audience doesn't go for it, we could always go into porn."

"_Never_!" Ryan gasped over-dramatically. "The sleaziness! The lack of class and any decent acting abilities! Ohh, the unspeakable _horror_! So harsh an environment is _no_ place for young, nubile men such as ourselves!"

I laughed so hard, tears were forming in my eyes.

After a second, he laughed right along with me.

When our laughter died down, I effortlessly hoisted him up onto my lap. "And you wonder why people fall for you so easily." I held his hips, running my hands along the waistband of his jeans.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and that's where I kissed him.

He titled his head and kissed me back.

My eyes closed, savoring the contact and the taste of him.

After a minute, he pulled away, our lips making a soft "smacking" noise. My eyes slowly reopened to find him studying my face intently. "What?" I asked, even though a part of me already knew the answer. "What is it?"

"I… I love you, Troy."

I would never get tired of hearing that. "I know." I didn't need to add that I loved him, too.

He already knew.

- Powering Through -

During that 30 day period, Ryan and I threw ourselves into our individual practices.

Marcus and I discussed strategies with Coach Bryson.

Ry was the youngest member of the cast of _Raviver_. Thankfully, that encouraged the other cast members to look out for him, instead of taking advantage of him. Ry confided in me that his role wasn't exactly enviable. Benji Taylor, the star of the musical, was a part that required hours devoted to getting down the choreography, and learning the ins and outs of the music.

"Benji also has about eight wardrobe changes throughout the show," he informed me, laughing drily.

"You're kidding!" My eyes widened. _Twinkle Towne_, the winter musical of our junior year that introduced me to the world of theater, only had one wardrobe change.

"It seems like it will be worthwhile, though," Ryan reassured me.

It turned out that it was. When we were both home, we helped each other in anyway we could. Ry helped me with English: conceits, syntax, and all of that other terminology. I ran lines with him, and let him practice the choreography with me as his partner. From what I devised, the show was going to be _phenomenal_.

When we fell back on the couch together, winded, but grinning, and I caught a glimpse of the sparkle in Ryan's eyes, it felt like we were in high school again. It went unspoken, but we knew that we were making up for lost time. We walked to a park, and I helped Ryan with shooting form. He made a basket and almost nailed a jump shot, complete with a pirouette at the end of the shot. I was _so_ proud. We also got to squeeze in some late night make-out sessions. We were taking it back, and doing it together, like Ryan had said.

As the date of the game got closer, our scrimmages became more focused on fast breaks, and pivoting. We had to be on guard, in case the Minutemen tried to press us, and force us to mess up our shots.

The days passed by so quickly. In a movie, they might have been a montage, but, to me, they felt sort of like a dream. Ry's rehearsals gradually got longer, and he was out later. When he got home, his muscles would be sore and screaming, just like mine were. He showed me how to brew tea so I could make some for him after we shared a nice hot shower. While he sipped tea, I'd massage his neck, shoulders, back and legs until his barely muffled moans drove me _wild_, and there was no other option left but to make sweet, hot, passionate love to him on the couch, the bed, the bean bag chair, the coffee table, or whatever surface was the closest, and comfortable enough for him. Once we had finished, I'd kiss and nuzzle his neck, and he would brush my hair out of the way to kiss near my ears, and then we would flop down beside each other.

We'd listen to the sounds of each other's breathing for a moment, and then, we'd talk. One night, going for three in the morning, I managed to get Ryan to tell me the story of of his family's move from Newport, Rhode Island, to Albuquerque, New Mexico.

He was curled into me, his voice thick with sleep. "There were several… "incidents" in the seventh and eighth grade."

"Like what?" Propping my head up on my hand, I dragged the fingers of my free hand up and down his arm. My eyelids felt weighted, but I hung onto his every word, like always.

"Some of Sharpay's and my peers weren't exactly ready to embrace my, "openness"," he clarified.

My heart jolted. "Did they hurt you?" I asked, sort of afraid of the answer. His jumpiness the first day of our freshman year made sense, now.

"Not really," He paused, his brows quirking together before he yawned, politely covering his mouth. "I was knocked into lockers, called names, and had my books knocked out of my hands. Nothing too extreme, just your garden variety neanderthals showing off." He smiled, his expression somewhat bitter.

I laughed weakly, my eyes taking in his fragile exterior as I noted how accurate, and yet, how deceptive it really was.

"Sharpay did her best to stand up for me, and it actually worked for a while." His expression softened, the look in his eyes matching the fond tone of his voice.

A small smile tugged at my lips.

"But, our dad overheard these two fifteen year old eighth graders threatening me at our eighth grade graduation, and decided that enough was enough," Ry went on. "He relocated us from our flat in Newport, Rhode Island, to the mansion in Albuquerque, where his center of business is. At first, everyone was a little upset by the move." His voice was wistful. "Shar had to leave behind some friends, and a boyfriend that she really liked."

I grimaced sympathetically.

"But, it turned out to be the best decision that dad could have made." His eyes glowing, a soft smile played on his lips. Looking into his eyes, seeing the love there, was like staring up into a cloudless summer sky that stretched on for miles into infinity. And every "mile" in Ry's blue eyes was filled with love, love, love, love.

A smile spread across my face, replacing the grimace.

He scooted into me, cuddling against my chest. We sighed simultaneously, and the way our chests pressed together when they rose and fell felt so natural and right. I inhaled the sweet strawberry scent of his hair, letting him intoxicate me until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. "You've got that right," I yawned. "Your dad's decision was the best thing for both of us."

"Mmhm."

Ryan nuzzling into my neck, and the silkiness of his skin as I ran my hand down his back, were the last things I felt before murmuring, "G' night, baby."

"Night, Troy," he returned, his voice hushed and so sweet.

- Like A Box Of Chocolates -

The night before Ry's show and my big game, I had just gotten back from a burger and fries run with Marcus, Jake, Chris, and a couple of the other guys on the team. I had only eaten a few fries in order to save room for dinner with Ryan.

I ran into Kelsi out in the hall. She was visiting Scot and Marceline. "What's up, Hoopsman?" She greeted me.

"Nothin' much." I put my hands into my jean pockets.

Kelsi, nearly as skilled at reading body language as Ryan, must have saw that action as an evasive maneuver. She focused her blue-green eyes on me. "If this is about your game and Ryan's musical being on the same day, cheer up." She nudged me, smiling encouragingly. "It's not the end of the world."

"Thanks, Kels." I smiled slightly.

The look she gave me told me that she had a feeling that I would wind up doing something crazy.

Somewhere inside, I knew that she wasn't wrong.

"Well, see you later."

"Yeah." I nodded, and we parted ways.

Once I was inside mine and Ryan's apartment, I took a moment to consider my options. Like Ryan said, he would have other shows. But, not all of them would be as meaningful as his Broadway debut. I could bail on my big game, but I would be letting my entire team, Coach Bryson, my dad, and Ryan down. I would be letting _myself _down. It was my last game of the season, of the year. Shaking my head, I regrouped my thoughts and focused them on getting dinner.

I'm no cook, like I said, but I could at least heat up a frozen meal, like Stouffer's cheese lasagna. While I was taking the block of pasta out of the package, my phone started vibrating. I set the lasagna down, and dug my phone out. I didn't recognize the number on the caller id.

Warily, I answered it. "Hello?"

"Yo, what's up, Hoops?" Chad's voice, loaded with his signature Chad Danforth vivaciousness, greeted me.

"Chad!" A grin spread across my face. Then, I heard rustling and people talking in the background on his end. "Where are you, man?"

"Connecticut."

"Connecticut?" I almost dropped the phone and the lasagna out of shock.

"Yeah," he answered smoothly. "And, I've got someone here with me."

As I crinkled my brow in confusion, there was more rustling, and then,

"Hi, Troy," a female voice that struck a chord of familiarity in me, said.

Instantly, I recognized it as Taylor McKessie's. My heart swelled with joy. "Hi, Taylor."

"Well Troy," she started, "would you believe that your prodigious friend, Mr. Danforth, proved himself to be indubitably a man of his word?"

I could almost see the smile on her face. "That doesn't surprise me at all," I replied, smiling widely. Chad is loyal to a fault, after all. I adjusted the way I was holding the phone, and double-checked the oven temperature and cooking time. Just to be safe. I didn't want Ryan to come home to a burnt pile of rubble.

"And," Taylor continued, "would it blow your mind to learn that, in an astonishingly romantic gesture, Mr. Danforth showed up at my dorm room on Valentine's Day with a box of chocolates tucked under his arm?"

"They were filled with peanut butter. Her favorite," Chad inputted.

I imagined Taylor playfully rolling her eyes and swatting at him.

"What can I say?" I chuckled, thinking of the heart-shaped candies that read "I love you", and "Be mine", that Ryan had woken up to find sitting on my pillow that Valentine's Day morning, the box of chocolate-covered cherries the two of us shared, and the bouquet of lilies I got him. Our hair had smelled like those flowers for days afterwards. It was off the hook. Raising my voice just a bit, I added, "Chad's hung out with a sentimental corn ball for so long, something _must _have rubbed off."

"I would say so." I could hear the smile in Taylor's words.

"Hey man," Chad retorted, embarrassment starting to flare, like I knew it would. "At least I didn't write her some corny love song, like a certain someone I knew."

Heat flared on my cheeks. Good old Chad. Only he could make me feel so ashamed of being so cheesy.

"Is that so?" Taylor protested, her inflection teasing. "Chad, don't you find the act of confessing your love vocally via lyrical format to be obscenely appealing? I seem to recall a certain _someone _serenading me over the webcam on New Year's Eve." Her voice softened a little on the words, "serenading me". "What was the name of that song?" She went on. "Oh, yes! Endl-"

Chad interrupted her, his voice telling me that he was even more embarrassed and borderline exasperated. "Alright, Tay. Can I have the phone back now? Please?"

"Yes, of course, you big toddler." I could imagine her nudging him, a bemused smile on her lips. "Troy, it was nice talking to you."

My heart missed a beat. The same girl who had my name at the top of her hit list for most of our high school careers, had just said that she enjoyed talking to me. _Whoa_. "Yeah," I replied, recovering from the shock and putting on a smile, even though she couldn't see it. "Same here."

The phone traded hands with some murmuring that I couldn't make out between Chad and Taylor. "So, what's up with you, man?" Chad asked.

I let out a heavy sigh. "I'm bummed out, Chad."

"Why?"

"Ry's Broadway debut is tomorrow." I slid the lasagna into the oven.

"And. You practically shouted into my ear when he got the lead role, you were so excited." I could pick up the smile in his voice, too.

"My big game is the same day," I clarified.

"Troy," Chad said. I could tell from the shift of his tone that he was serious. "Come on, man. Did you forget that you're the same guy who managed to get basically the entire school into the auditorium on the day of our championship game against West High, and the Scholastic Decathalon, to watch your audition for the school musical?"

"No," I said, wondering where he was going with this pep talk, because, now that I thought about it, that was a pretty screwed up thing I did, and it was why Ryan lost the lead to me.

"How about the fact that you somehow convinced all of us that working in Sharpay's hell kitchen for the summer would be "fun"?" Chad went on.

"No." I felt the start of a smile tugging at my mouth.

"Or, that you pulled some kind of Superman move, and showed up just in time to sing your big song in the musical last year?"

The smile spread across my face. "No, Chad. I haven't forgotten."

If Chad had been there physically, he probably would have playfully smacked me upside the head for being so stupid. "You'll work this out, man. You always do."

My heart was warmed by his encouragement, so much so, that tears pricked my eyes for a moment. Manly tears, of course. "Thanks, Chad."

He shrugged off the thank you. "You're my bro, my homie for life. Besides, you helped me get Taylor back, Troy." The softness to his voice actually made me want to cry.

"No way, man. That was all you." I insisted with a grin."The ladies can't resist your charms."

He snorted. "The hair helps."

I laughed.

We said our goodbyes, promising to hang out soon, since Yale is only about 70 miles away from New York City. While I stared at the clock, keeping track of the time, I heard the distinct sound of a key scraping the lock of our apartment door.

My heart leapt. Sure enough, the most beautiful person in my world walked in, his nose, cheeks, and ears red from the cold. "Troy?" He called.

I ran to him and pounced, taking him into an embrace to warm him up.

"Easy there." He laughed lightly. A smile on his lips, he nuzzled into my warm neck. "I missed you, too," he murmured, his lips tickling me.

After I had warmed him up, I let him go so he could take off his coat and boots and unwind his scarf.

"How was practice?" He asked.

"Good. We aren't going to get cocky, but Marcus and Coach Bryson are pretty confident in our team."

Ryan smiled, taking a seat beside me on the couch. "Well," he said, his blue eyes sparkling, "with their secret weapon on hand, I'm fairly confident in your team, too." He nudged me gently, his head resting on my shoulder.

I looked him over, a smile on my face at that huge compliment, and I could tell that he had had a long day. "How were rehearsals?" I asked.

"We launched right in with Margaret and Anthony watching. They left notes in the dressing rooms, covering what we need to work on."

"Yeah?"

"Everyone has their part down," he continued.

"Well, that's great!" I replied.

"It's going to be a fantastic show!" He raised his head to look me in the eyes. "The cast is _really _talented."

"Oh, I'm sure."

He opened his mouth, his eyes falling to the floor. His entire demeanor changed, the spark leaving him."O-Only.."

"Yeah?" I prompted gently, encouraging him.

"I-I.." he started, then stopped.

I froze at the same moment.

He sniffed at the air. "Do you smell something burning?"

"Shit!" I jumped up, nearly stumbling over the coffee table.

- Original You -

Luckily, the lasagna was only half burnt. Ryan was incredibly appreciative of me making dinner for him, even though that's just a gesture of common courtesy.

The burnt pieces didn't taste all that bad, so I considered my first venture in actual cooking a huge success.

Once we ate our fill, we took a nice hot shower together, and then settled down on the bed where I kneaded at Ryan's smooth lower back, which was tight as hell after hours of dancing and standing.

"A lovely dinner, hugs when I come home late, m-massages-!" His voice cracked into a contented moan. "What did I do to deserve you, Troy Bolton?" There was so much love in his sweet beautiful voice.

"You're you," I replied, kissing the back of his neck and pressing my semi-hard-on into his perfect ass.

Somewhere around twenty minutes later, we were sound asleep, cuddled together under a pile of thick blankets in our warm bed.

- Listen To Your Love-

That Saturday dragged on _forever_. It was excruciating, sitting around. Waiting.

Ry, as always, sought to make life easier for me. "Troy," he said, "why don't you help me with the dishes?"

We worked in quiet, Ry washing, me drying. We didn't discuss what needed to be discussed: tonight, what comes after, was Ryan going on tour, who would make him tea, and massage his sore muscles while he was on tour, who would make him laugh, who would keep me from doing something stupid and crazy while I was all alone in New York City? Even though the looks we pretended we weren't giving each other gave away just how badly we wanted to decide everything.

I wished the future was something tangible, malleable, so that I could torque and shape it exactly the way that I wanted it to be. My eyes went to Ryan, took in the frown on his soft face, and decided that enough was enough.

I flicked a couple of drops of water in his direction.

He flinched, his eyes wide and surprised. As soon as I let out an incriminating laugh, he exchanged his look of shock for a smirk. He set the plate he had been scrubbing at, trying to get rid of the marinara sauce stains, and the sponge, back in the soapy water, then flicked suds at me.

Letting out another laugh, I dipped my hands in the soapy water and flung suds at him. They splashed onto the front of his shirt.

He countered me by wiping suds on my cheek.

I got him on the opposite cheek.

We locked eyes, halting for a moment, realizing that we had needed this, and then, in the same instant, both of us reached for the hose. Laughing, we lightly jostled each other.

Ry's lightning fast reflexes gave him an advantage, and he seized it, a triumphant laugh escaping him. I reached for a pan to shield myself, but it was too late. He hit me square in the chest with a blast of cold water. "I got you!" He cried.

"Oh yeah?" I challenged. Before he could react, I swept him up into my arms and backed him into the wall, both of us giggling and laughing all the way, as the pan and hose clattered to the floor.

We exhaled through our noses, then locked lips fiercely, his pruney hands stroking through my hair, caressing my scalp. I moaned out of my nose. He moaned softly into my mouth. Then, we broke off, Ry biting tenderly at my lower lip.

His eyes opened, those pools of blue staring into my eyes, staring into me. He knew me, everything that I was, everything that I am.

And, I knew him, just like both of us knew that nothing needed to be said.

After that, time seemed to go by _too_ fast. Before we knew it, it was 5:30. Kelsi, Scot and Marceline dropped by to wish both of us luck.

Ryan got a call from his mom that their plane had just touched down.

Ry and I showered and dressed again. By that time, it was 6:30. There was only the two of us and this little, practically non-existent stretch of time.

"Well," he said.

"Well," I said.

"Good luck, Troy."

"Break a leg, Ry."

He started for the door, shaking with excitement, anticipation, and something else. All things that I was feeling.

But, something was missing. "Hey," I called him back softly.

A smile played on his lips. He walked back and pressed his soft pink mouth to my neck in a feather light kiss. Anything more than that, and neither one of us would have wanted to leave, even if a man juggling chainsaws while sitting naked on a unicorn, was outside the door.

- All Or Nothing -

The Minutemen were playing hard. Not dirty, like some of our previous opponents, but you could tell from the fierce glint in their eyes and the tenseness of their muscles that they had one goal in mind; to beat the _snot _out of the Berkeley Knights.

Marcus called us all together. Jake stood beside me, his entire body hardly able to contain his energy. It was our last game of the season, and Charlotte was there in the bleachers, Jasmine beside her, supporting him, Marcus, and the rest of our team. He was pumped.

I wished that I was.

"We need to get at least a six point lead on these guys," Marcus said.

Ryan. How was he? He was so nervous, so worried that he'd screw up.

"Bolton," Marcus's voice broke through my chaotically jumbled thoughts.

I tried not to jump out of my skin. Calming my heart, I turned to face my captain's intense brown eyes.

"Stay focused. Come on," he told me.

"Right." I wanted to smack myself. _Head in the game_, I reminded myself. _Get your head back in the game_.

"Alright," Marcus went on, "our biggest interference is gonna be their point guard anticipating our moves. We've gotta fake him out." He looked to Jake and Grady Connors. "Parker, Connors, can you two handle a diversion?"

Grady nodded.

"Sure thing," Jake promised, his eyes glinting resolutely.

"Bolton," Marcus resumed.

This time, I listened intently.

"I need you to get Jeffers the ball, no matter what it takes. You got that?"

I gave him a firm nod. "Yes, sir."

We piled our hands together, then broke off, plunging back into the game.

I kept an eye on Chris Jeffers as he navigated his way toward our basket.

Several of our teammates managed to get a hold of the ball, but they were intercepted at every turn by the Minutemen's _gigantic _point guard.

I grudgingly admitted to myself that these guys were fast.

Grady and Jake were executing their diversion perfectly. Jumping up, Grady managed to smack the ball out of the point guard's hands, and pass it to Jake. Jake just barely dodged out of the way of a taller guy who was part of the other team's offense.

I followed Jake, dashing toward the basket. Jake faked right and passed the ball to Marcus. Marcus took off like a shot.

I waited, my pulse throbbing in my temples.

Marcus caught my eye as discreetly as possible. Feet skidded as he dodged around more interception. This was it.

The Minutemen were fast, but there was one thing they didn't have,

Marcus tossed the ball and I just barely caught it. I dribbled once. All eyes were on me. Twice. The other team's guys started advancing. My heart rate increasing, I leapt, propelling myself and the ball forward with all of my strength. I saw the ball fly through the air and then, gravity sent me back to the floor where I fell with a _thud_. Pain shot up my leg, but that was second priority. _The ball! Where is the-?_

The sound of the ref's whistle silenced my thoughts. A pair of sneakers squeaked on the polished floor next to me. "Troy! Troy, man! Ya did it!" Jake exclaimed.

Dazed, I looked toward the scoreboard. 43/40 the glaring red numbers declared. Joy coursed through me. It had worked!

"I can't believe it!" Jake went on. "It takes a lot of guts to pull off a crazy-ass stunt like that!"

I pushed my body off of the floor, ready to get to my feet only to wince loudly.

"Hey, Troy, you okay?" Jake knelt beside me, and I felt two pairs of arms loop around me as he and Marcus, who raced over at some point, lugged me upright.

"Half-time, guys," Coach Bryson announced as he joined us. His eyes swept over me, taking me in with a mixture of awe, pride and a bit of concern. For a moment, I felt a pang of longing for my dad, who would have told me that I did a "great job" before taking me aside to make sure that I hadn't hurt myself. "You alright, Bolton?" He asked.

I tried not to wince. "I'm fine, coach."

"That was one _hell _of a pass!"

A slight smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "Thanks." I couldn't take full credit, though. I learned from the best. I grit my teeth as my leg began to throb. _Damn._

As we filed down into the locker rooms with the rest of our teammates , Marcus shot me a grin, musing incredulously, "Holy _shit_, Bolton. Ho-ly shit!"

- Headstrong, Heartstrong -

The rest of the team shot me looks, or grins, or went in for a congratulatory shove over my "incredible" pass. I just sat there, sort of flushing awkwardly. Marcus had said, "no matter what it takes", so I just did what I had to do. "Hey, come on, guys," I reminded them, "it was Chris who made the basket."

A part of me was still sort of surprised that they were so unbothered by my sexuality. I guess it is easier to be out after high school.

While everyone turned their attention to congratulating the right guys, my mind went into motion. There was something that I_ had_ to do. My heart would never let me live down the guilt, if I didn't go through with this.

Coach Bryson came by and gave us all a powerful and motivational pep talk about this being our last game of the school year, and how each and every one of us had it in him to win.

As much as I wanted to be there to see it happen, my heart was set on something else.

Soon, the rest of the team was headed up the stairs back onto the court.

_We have a three point lead_, I assured myself. _They've more than got this._

Jake hung back. "Troy, you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine," I said with a smile.

He looked to the door, and hesitated.

"_Really_, Jake," I added, a bit more firmly. Then, with a bright smile, I encouraged him, "Go get 'em, buddy!"

His posture straightening and his eyes determined, Jake rushed off.

Once he was gone, I pulled myself to my feet. I got lucky. The severity of my injury amounted to a bruised shin. I could still walk, or run, if I needed to. Going to my locker, I removed my gym bag and took out a dress shirt, a pair of slacks, and a pair of dress shoes that I had packed, just in case.

The heart wants what the heart wants. Ryan Evans was going to have his boyfriend giving him a standing ovation after all.

- Time After Time -

Sneaking out of the gym was surprisingly easy. It was getting into the show that proved to be difficult. At first, I almost got lost. The lobby was freaking _huge_, and ridiculously ornate. I kind of wanted to take a picture, in case I somehow forgot that I had been there. Luckily, Ryan must have gushed about me to the right people. An usher asked me, "You're Troy, Ryan's boyfriend, right?"

"Yeah!" I replied, my face hot as I grinned with pride and relief.

"Your boyfriend's really talented, you know."

"Oh yeah. I know!" I fished in my pockets and pulled out the ticket.

"Enjoy the show, and please, keep quiet," she reminded me as she let me in.

If I thought the lobby was huge, when I walked into the auditorium, my heart just about stopped. "Holy…!" I started, only to realize what I was doing, and stop myself. I made my way down the aisle, trying not to stare too much in case someone got offended. The place was _packed_. Everyone else was impeccably dressed in expensive dresses and tuxedos. I had to spray myself down with cologne, and hope that my hair wasn't sticking up. I felt so small, and so out of place, it was kind of scary.

But, I was there for a reason.

In the third row from the front, on the left, I spotted Mr. and Mrs. Evans, and Sharpay. They looked away from the stage long enough to wave at me. I waved back. Sharpay mouthed, "Why are you walking around?"

I shrugged, not knowing how else to answer her. Then, the action onstage caught my attention.

His pale skin glowing radiantly under a spotlight, there was my world, my _everything_, Ryan Evans, standing center stage before a crowd of hundreds of people who were rapt with attention and appreciating every word that came out of his beautiful, talented mouth.

I could tell that he had noticed me. Just like that summer, he didn't break character, but I didn't miss the intense sparkle of joy and love in his eyes. Awestruck and overwhelmed, I stumbled a bit, looking for my seat. Then, right up front, I saw a chair with a sign on it that read, in fancy manuscript, "_Reserved For Troy Bolton". _It hit me.

Ryan had known, _all along_.

His performance was_ phenomenal_. Stupendous! Amazing! Flawless! When the curtain closed, I admit, there were tears in my eyes. Okay, the rest of the cast were pretty damned amazing, too. During the curtain call, I went _nuts_. When Ryan walked out, I not only was the first one on my feet, clapping as hard as I could, I called out, "Ryan! Yeah! That's my boyfriend! You were _perfect_, baby!"

Ryan bit back a grin, his cheeks reddening a little under all of that make-up.

I felt bad that I didn't have roses to throw at him, so I settled for clapping until my hands stung.

The woman in the seat next to me, who was also standing, looked at me and said, "Your boyfriend is a star!"

"Yes he is, ma'am!" My heart could burst from the love and pride that filled me to capacity. "Yes he is!"

After everyone had filed off the stage and back into their dressing rooms, I realized if I booked it, I could hopefully make it back in time to still play in the game. As much as I wanted to stick around and celebrate the full house of applause that Ryan and his cast mates had received, I knew I had another obligation to meet.

I made my way through the monstrous crowd, murmuring apologies and "excuse me"s as I went when people shot me offended glares. I caught a glimpse of Sharpay heading towards me, and my blood ran cold. I _couldn't_ be delayed.

Luckily, someone else caught her attention; a male member of _Raviver_'s cast, who wasn't half bad-looking and couldn't have been a day over 23. It was lucky for me, but I felt somewhat sorry for the poor bastard.

After my narrow escape, I was able to get back out to the rental car with no problems. I had done it! Ryan had done it!

Ryan.

There was a pang in my chest as I thought of how disappointed Ry would be when he learned that I had ducked out without even hugging him.

_He'll understand_, I told myself. _Besides, he's finally gotten what he's always wanted. He's going to be in magazines, and newspaper headlines. This is his dream come true. _

I sighed heavily. I fixed my mirrors, and looked into the mirror over my dashboard. Faced with the sad expression of my reflection, I reminded myself, "Ryan has people to meet. _You _have a game to win."

I fastened my seatbelt, shifted the gear, then pulled out of the parking lot. Behind me, the neon lights proudly displaying the name of the show and its star became smaller and dimmer as I left the glitz of Broadway for Berkeley's polished gymnasium floor.

- Never Say Never -

I ran down the steps to the locker rooms. I was severely winded, but the feeling of joy inside of me made it feel like I was floating. Ryan's debut into the world of stardom had been an overwhelming success. And I had managed to see it. The sparkle that lit up his eyes when he saw me making my way through the aisles to take my seat, right up in the front row, was enough to make a man feel like he was the king of the _universe_. I was definitely no exception.

Hopefully, there was still time for me to play in our big game. I hadn't even stopped to check the score on my way back in. Hurriedly, I yanked off my dress shoes, unfastened my slacks and squirmed my way out of them. After I had undone about three buttons on my dress shirt, I said, "Screw it", and tore it off, pulling it over my head. I looked down at my wrist, only to remember that I wasn't wearing a watch. I never have.

I could hear feet pounding on the floor over my head, and cheers being sent up. "Please let the Knights still be winning. Come on," I whispered fervently to myself.

I headed out of the locker room, and rounded the corner toward the staircase, only to freeze in place, my heart skipping a beat as I recognized the blue fedora I had given a certain someone for Christmas, on the head of an all-too-familiar slender figure, flying down the steps at me.

"Ryan?" I gasped in disbelief.

Sure enough, my beautiful, blond, soon-to-be-a-superstar boyfriend was there, right in front of me, doubled over, his white hands clutching the knees of his dress slacks as he gasped for air.

_He _ran _all the way here? _I wondered to myself. "Ry, no offense, babe, but, what are you doing _here_? Don't you have interviewers to talk to? You should be _there_, getting what you always wanted." People were waiting to talk to the young star of "_Raviver's_" Broadway debut, and yet, he was _here_, in the locker room of NY Berkeley, dressed to kill, and standing in a room that _reeked _of sweat, far away from the life of glitz and glamour that he was meant for.

Having finally caught his breath, Ryan righted himself. "Troy," he said, his voice clear, but the look in his eyes was desperate, "i-in high school, I wanted it all. The fame, the fortune…" He trailed off.

I stepped in closer, knowing that there was more.

"But," he continued, "I know that, in the end, the fame and the fortune wouldn't matter, because I _need_ _more _to be complete." His eyes were moist.

I took another step into him. "Ryan," I started.

He quieted me, adding in a soft voice, "That "more", is _you."_

"Ryan…" The look in his eyes, the intense love there, was killing me. He wanted everything I could ever want, I saw it in his sky blue eyes that were reeling me in, just _destroying _me. And then, his hands closed on the material of my jersey, pulling me in as he crushed his lips against mine, pouring everything he had into that lip-lock. Immediately, I wrapped my arms around his lower back, kissing him with the same fierce passion he was kissing me.

My backside hit the wall and our hands were roaming over each other's bodies, chests, shoulder blades, backs, hips, as his tongue explored every detail of my mouth. We could have dropped over dead, right then, and I would have been happy, just as long as we could be together, our bodies forever unified. I wanted that beautiful, hot, sweet, just _incredible _moment to never end.

Soft moans escaped my mouth as Ryan's hands played with the hem of my jersey. I felt his heart racing against mine. _Oh, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan_, every bone and nerve in my body seemed to be saying. Ryan, the boy who loved me _so freaking much_, that he ran all the way to Berkeley's campus just to see me. Who else would have done that? For _me? _I knew the answer: _NO ONE. No one other than Ryan._

Love for him drowned my senses, intoxicating me.

When both of us needed to breathe, he broke off, pulling his tongue out of my mouth. His pale face was flushed, his pink lips were kissed red, and his eyes were shining with love and interrupted lust for me. Fuck, he was like an angel on earth. _My angel. _

"I love you, Troy Bolton," he relayed sotto voce, nuzzling his nose against mine. "I love you more than _anything_."

"I love you, too, Ryan Evans," I breathed. "More than I've ever loved _anyone_." We stayed like that for a moment, his hands laying on my jersey over my rapidly beating heart, the two of us so close, so freaking happy, and then, he pulled back. "What's wrong?"

"Come on." He offered me his slender hand, that smile that could make bikers' hearts melt on his face, his eyes sparkling. "You've got a game to win, Mr. Co-Captain."

I let out a chuckle, feeling tears prick my eyes. Moving in, I wrapped an arm around him and pulled him tight against me. "With you as my good luck charm?" I asked him in a low voice.

"You know it."

I fiddled with his fedora, his _special _fedora, and he nuzzled into my neck for a mere instant. Then, I took hold of his hand, and the two of us dashed up the steps, Ry holding tightly to his hat with the other hand.

Ryan took his seat on the bleachers, shooting me a thumbs-up and grin of encouragement.

I ran over to Marcus and Jake, slapping their palms to let them know that I was back in the game. They were both happy to see me.

That night, Marcus lead the team to victory with a score of 79 to 78. I helped, of course. You know, just a little bit. As cheers erupted in the gym, no one seemed to cheer louder or more passionately than Ryan. Charlotte and Jasmine ran to Jake and Marcus and took them into hugs. I lifted Ry up in my arms and twirled him around, his arms winding around my neck as our mouths met in a celebratory kiss. I couldn't wait to show my dad a picture of the trophy we had won.

Somehow, miraculously, I was able to change out of my uniform, back into my dress clothes, and drive Ryan back so that he could be interviewed, have his picture taken, and make headline news.

With the huge success of the opening night, Ryan was extended the offer to join the Magniloquent Roving Theater, and travel with them as they toured the country. I knew he couldn't refuse. This was his big break, the moment he had been waiting his entire life for.

While the rest of the cast and crew were discussing transportation and living arrangements for the tour, Ry took me aside. "I can't leave you behind, Troy," he murmured, his eyes clouding. "Who else will brew tea for me, and give me massages, and keep me company?"

"You aren't going to leave me behind," I assured him.

"You mean-?" He caught on, like always, knowing me better than anyone.

"Yes." I smiled.

"But, what about school, and basketball-?" He started, but I knew that he already knew the answer.

"What about them?" I countered gently. "I can always finish my courses online. And as for basketball, I'm sure some of your cast members would shoot some hoops with me. And so would you, right? Besides," I paused for a minute, to give everything time to sink in before adding, "I wanted to sing and dance, too. And I can't think of a better partner." I touched my forehead lightly to his.

Moving just out of reach, he shook his head, his eyes glowing softly. "I love you." His lips gave a faint tremble, his voice trembling too, ever so slightly.

"I love you, too." My voice cracked a little. We embraced, our bodies fitting together in that perfect way that the bodies of "soul mates" are said to fit together.

On our way out, Ryan politely declined offers to stay and hang out and have a couple of drinks to celebrate the show's success. After sharing glasses of wine until we were stumbling, and then hours of intense, passionate love-making, which was going down as _soon_ as we got back to the apartment, we would need our rest.

So, yeah, when I said that the most important blessings in my life are my two best friends, one being Chad Danforth, my bushy-haired, optimistic, stubborn, but loyal to a fault brother from another mother, the other one, is Ryan Evans. That's right, the boy who was pushed into the background, but wound up becoming my universe anyway. The boy who helped me to find myself, to become a man in so many ways, and became a man himself along the way.

A high school musical was what brought us together, so it's only fitting that a musical would be what had me traveling the country to stay by his side. After everything, all the obstacles, the fumbles, we had managed to stay strong, something Gabriella and I never could have done. Our dreams were that much closer to coming true, my dreams were, and I had Ryan to thank for it all.

As we moved into our bedroom, wearing nothing but our boxers, Ryan nibbled the shell of my ear, humming something that sounded like Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now". I moaned softly and worked my way up his neck to his ear where I whispered, "_Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix_." I managed to remember the one phrase in French that I had learned thanks to Google Translator.

Obviously, me speaking French to him had the same effect on him, as it did on me when he spoke French to me. He squeezed my shoulder blades, running his fingers up my shoulders and biceps. "Ohhhh, Troooy," he moaned.

We fell back on the bed, my mouth covering his neck in kisses.

Maybe we weren't quite there, yet, but that "ever evasive "happily ever after"", as Ryan had called it, was definitely in our reach.

****

A/N: Let me know what your thoughts are. I apologize for the length of this monster, but I hope that it makes up for the space between updates. 

**When next we meet, my dear readers, there will be an epilogue. _Au revoir_, until then! **


	20. Chapter 20: Epilogue

**A/N: Here it is! The epilogue! Working on this story has meant so much to me, and, as sad as I am to reach the end of it, I am incredibly excited to embark on the journey of writing the sequel. **

**Thank you all for your wonderful, thoughtful, and thought provoking reviews, and for your support. I would be nothing without my readers. **

**I want to share with all of you that I am awaiting contact from a publisher as I type this. Someday in the near future, you might see "Don't Let Me Drown" on a shelf in your local bookstore! I'm hoping that the publishing process won't distract me too much from writing the one shot and the sequel to follow this story up. If it does, I apologize in advance. **

**Anyway, now to get to what I'm sure some of you have been waiting for!**

**Disclaimer: Despite my constant wishing, I have no ownership claims to any of the characters or locations present in the "High School Musical" universe. All recognizable elements are © of Disney. **

Epilogue

You might call me crazy for saying this, it is pretty difficult to believe, after all, but traveling the country on a bus shared by six people really isn't so bad. When you've been traveling back and forth to games on a crowded bus filled with loud, antsy, and overly energetic basketball players, staying on a tour bus that has three room compartments, a fridge, a kick-ass AC/heating unit, and people that respect each other's needs for peace and quiet, is really not half-bad.

The Magniloquent Roving Theater really knew how to treat its cast and crew right. At first, there was some worry about whether or not I'd be allowed to go, but since Ryan is the youngest member of the cast, Margaret Chapman and Anthony Bishop, the directors of the play, figured that Ry would need me as moral support.

Everyone else in the cast turned out to be cool with it. Brad Sullivan, the second youngest cast member after Ryan, and the poor guy I wound up using as a diversion to get away from Sharpay the opening night of Ry's show, also brought his girlfriend, Sheila, with him. Maxine Ross, a sweet older lady who plays Ryan's character, Benji's mom, in the show, took to looking after all of us, and Scotty Jacobs, a member of the stage crew. Scotty was the other occupant of the bus, and the driver.

When you share a bus with people, it's sort of hard not to get into their business, whether you mean to or not. Brad, it turned out, is kind of shy and bookish behind his good looks. Sheila has the looks of a model, and a killer personality. Unfortunately, something made Brad really insecure. One night, after a show, he stormed off and locked himself in his and Sheila's room. Sheila sat in mine and Ry's room that we shared with Scotty, while she waited for Brad to cool down. Once he did, he came to our room and they both apologized to each other. Ry and I shot each other a look, silently promising that we would never fight like that. They embraced each other tightly, and then went into their room where they "made up".

Scotty and I shot Brad grins when he stumbled out of his room the next day, looking disheveled, which made him flush bright red.

Other than that, things were surprisingly drama free.

Using Ry's laptop, he and I were able keep in touch with our parents back home, Chad and Taylor in Connecticut, and our friends in New York. Marceline informed us with a proud smile that Scot and Kelsi were still going strong, and that she herself had yet to find someone, but was considering her options. Ryan told her to be mindful not to rush into things. "There's no rush. You're still young. You should live it up a little first."

"Oh, I will. Don't worry, sweetie," she promised him with her signature smirk.

Things were still going well between Charlotte and Jake. Their date nights alternated between going out, and playing World of Warcraft together. Ryan thought it was incredibly cute. I expressed my agreement by kissing his cheek, and then running my hands under his shirt.

When my mom and dad weren't teasing me about getting a haircut, they were marveling over the fact that their son was dating a star. Well, my dad was, anyway. My mom was more concerned with how well Ryan and I were eating: Well.

If we were looking out for each other: We were. Of course.

And, then, there was the issue of a certain question.

I also used Ry's laptop to keep up with my school work. He still helped me with English and with singing and dancing, because there was no better teacher for me in those areas than him, after all, even though he blushed, and ducked his head, refusing to believe it with an adorable embarrassed smile on his face.

After about five months on tour, Margaret declared that it was high time for everyone to take a break and recharge before the tour resumed. As Ryan and I were on the webcam with his dad, looking into the Mazda Ryan bought me being transported to the airport in New York City, where we would pick it up, we learned that Sharpay and Boi were now the stars of a show on Broadway.

For some reason, I was so shocked at this, that my eyes stretched wide, and a concerned Ryan laid a hand on my bicep. When I didn't snap out of it, he almost wound up giving me a couple of chest compressions to ensure that I was still breathing. He later informed me that he would have given me mouth-to-mouth, had his dad not been watching.

I ended up giving him tongue-to-tongue, and then skin-to-skin.

So, upon our return to New York City, the first stop we made was to pay Sharpay a visit. When we saw the old, sort of crumbly looking apartment building, we traded a look, hardly able to believe that his sister, _Sharpay Evans_, was actually living there.

"Do you think Sharpay endured some kind of brainwashing?" I asked him, lowering my voice to imitate what I thought an FBI agent would sound like.

He laughed in spite of himself. After a moment, when he had composed himself, he offered, "Maybe Shar got a dose of NYC living, and it changed her accordingly?"

I shrugged, every bit as clueless as he was.

Ry decided that he would be the only one who got out of the car, at least at first. I offered to come with him, but he assured me that it was alright. "If it is "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" in there, it's for the best that you stay out here." I tilted his chin up and kissed his soft lips. He kissed me back, the contact sending tingles through my body.

We broke off slowly, and I pulled away, looking him over with a smile. I took in the red blazer he was wearing over his white dress shirt, the beautiful haircut that he had gotten in Ohio on the last leg of his tour before the break. The way his bangs were styled so that they parted the same way mine did. His pink lips, his eyes as blue as the summer sky that sparkle fiercely when he's performing. His eyes that see me for who I am, and look upon me with love, pride, and endless love while we're making love, or cuddling together, or dancing together, or when I pass an English or Calculus test…and I loved him so _damn much_.

"What?" He asked softly, smiling lovingly as his eyes followed mine.

"You're _beautiful_, Ryan."

His eyes misted for a second, and he gave me that look that destroys my resistance and turns my heart to freaking goo. "Troy…"

I took his white fedora and put it on his head.

He adjusted it, turning the brim to the side in that perfect Ryan Evans style. "You're beautiful, too," he murmured, nuzzling against my cheek.

When he left the car, I called after him, "If you're not out of there in ten minutes, Mr. Evans, I'll call for reinforcements!"

"That won't be necessary, Agent Bolton!" He replied. I watched him until he walked up a stretch of pavement that lead to the doors, and was no longer visible.

After switching aimlessly back and forth between radio stations for about eight minutes, and rapping my fingers on the dashboard for the other two, I figured I might as well go in after him. I got out of the Mazda and made my way across the street into the building.

Once inside, I found a couple of girls, and asked them if they had seen a gorgeous blond boy with a white fedora who swayed his hips adorably when he walked, go by. With some odd giggles, they pointed up a a huge set of stairs. I thanked them, then dashed my way up, grateful for the dancing I had done with Ryan. Without it to keep me in shape, I probably would have collapsed at the top.

After a bit of wandering, I found a one-room apartment that was, although tiny, distinctively Sharpay. It was covered in pink from wall to wall, pink curtains, pink paint, pink furniture… I crinkled my nose, wondering how anyone could live in a room with so much of that color. Seeing as the room was empty, though, I prepared to turn back out, when-

"Hey!" I heard a familiar voice calling. My heart gave a pang as I realized that it belonged to Ryan, and it had that heightened shrillness to it that Ry's voice only gets when he's expressing an extreme emotion. "Is anyone out there? Hello?"

"Ry?" I looked around, trying to figure out where he was calling from. I turned to search outside of the room.

"Troy?" His tone had a note of hope in it.

I whipped back around, realizing that he was somewhere inside of the room. "I'm over here!"

My brows furrowed as I followed his voice over to what appeared to be a wall. "Ryan? You're in… _here_?" I wondered if one, or both of us, had lost it.

"Yes," he answered. "Please, _hurry_!" The evident desperate edge to his voice drove me on.

I hunted for some sort of pull cord, or handle, and found one right in the center. "I've got it!"

"Stand back!" He advised me.

I pulled, and the wall started coming down. I quickly jumped back as it fell, revealing a wide-eyed and ruffled Ryan laying on a white, flowery bed spread that covered a pull-out bed. Instantly, he jumped up and wrapped his arms around me. "Oh Troy! I'm _so _glad that you came after me!"

"So am I." I ran a hand down his back, and I could feel him trembling under my fingers. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, burying his face in my neck.

"How did you end up in there, you nut?" I murmured, rubbing his back soothingly.

He let out a dry laugh. "Shar took off after Boi, and apparently, she neglected to mention that her pull-out bed has an appetite for human flesh." He pulled away to look back at the now perfectly innocent looking bed, like he expected it to spring to life and trap both of us.

I couldn't blame him. I took this as incentive to move us further away from the death trap disguised as a mattress."You'd think they'd build those things with some kind of inside release, like an elevator."

Ryan turned back to me, his eyebrows elevated. "Troy, this building looks like it's at least one hundred years old."

"Alright, so, they didn't have the technology back then. Still…"

He leaned in, walking his index and middle fingers up my chest, which reeled me in like a fish on a hook. "It's a good thing that my loyal, strong, and incredibly handsome knight was here to save me." His lips curled up into a smile that sent tingles right below the waistline of my black denim jeans, and he gave his eyelashes the slightest flutter.

"Hey," I shifted in closer, "I may be a "knight", now, but," I chuckled slightly, my eyes moving down first my frontside, and then his, to indicate our outfits that sported East High colors. ""Once a Wildcat"-" I began, quoting the closing line from my graduation speech.

""-_always_, a Wildcat," he finished. The tip of his nose brushed against mine, and as his eyes closed, I tilted my head, leaning in for the kiss…

There was a girlish giggle that both of us immediately recognized. We quickly moved apart and turned toward the door as Sharpay and a tall blond dude entered. The guy's dirty blond hair was combed up into a hairstyle that made my stomach knot up: a cowlick all too similar to that bastard, Cody Westmore's. He held Boi in his arms, and looked back and forth between Sharpay, and Ryan and me with a look of confusion on his face.

"Hi, Troy!" Sharpay waved. Her smile seemed more sincere than I remembered.

"Hi," I gave her a wave and an awkward nod, then stepped in closer to Ryan, and awkwardly dropped my arms to my sides.

"Ryan, Troy," she went on, "I'd like both of you to meet Peyton!" She gestured to the blond guy who came in with her, her cheery smile not leaving her face.

Peyton stepped forward, giving a nod as he said, in a surprisingly deep voice, "Peyton Leverett. Nice to meet you."He extended his free-hand to us.

Exchanging a look, Ry and I both shook it.

"Peyton," Sharpay went on, "this is Ryan, my brother, and Troy," her lips curled up into the beginnings of a smirk, "his boy t-"

Ryan gave his sister a withering look that could have bent steel.

"-boy_friend_," she quickly amended.

""Boyfriend"?" Peyton looked us over, his expression a somewhat unreadable mixture of surprise, and something else.

"Yep," I happily confirmed, draping an arm over Ryan's shoulder. "Of a little over a year, now."

Ryan flashed me a smile, memories of everything good, bad, horrible, incredible, heart-wrenching, _unforgettable_ that had happened during that year passed between us with a simple look.

Peyton blinked, his mouth hanging open slightly.

Before the silence could get too awkward, it was filled. "Peyton's an amateur director," Sharpay stated with flair, like she was his agent, or something.

"Yeah," Peyton chipped in, a smile playing on his face, "I'm attending NYU and studying film making."

"Cool," I said with a smile.

"I'm the star of his directorial debut!" Sharpay exclaimed, punctuating her exclamation with a delighted squeal.

Ryan and I winced and cringed reflexively. Righting himself, Ryan said, "That's wonderful, Shar!" I didn't miss the look of confusion that he shot me.

"Your sister was a fascinating film subject from the moment I first saw her; an ambitious pink hurricane of self-confidence." Peyton recalled with a smile on his face.

I raised my eyebrows. _Okay_, I mused to myself. That wasn't creepy at all.

"Oh you." Sharpay waved her hand dismissively, then added, her tone playful, as she flipped her straightened blonde hair over her shoulder, "Tell me more!"

Ryan quirked one of his eyebrows, his smile faltering.

I felt just a bit uncomfortable. I'm more familiar with the flirty, giggly side of Sharpay than I like to think about. And, Sharpay wearing a wedding dress and assaulting me with a coral blue necktie while we stood on an altar, and she shrieked about our skin tone compatibility before telling me in her best seductive voice that we were "meant to sing together" as a minister declared us husband and wife was a _horrifying_ recurring nightmare of mine once. But this was still, well, off-putting.

As Sharpay and Peyton shared smiles, I noticed Ryan shifting. The look on his face was serious as a heart attack.

I could just tell that someone was about to get "served", Ryan Evans style.

"So, Peyton," Ryan said in a casual, conversational tone, "have you, by any chance, slept with my sister?"

Peyton and Sharpay both jolted as if his question had literally shocked them.

I bit back a laugh, nudging Ry's shoulder gently with my own. The ends of Ryan's mouth quirked up as he acknowledged me.

His face turning a dark pink, Peyton choked out, "N-No!"

"Good answer!" Ryan chirped. He looked to Sharpay and whispered dramatically, using his hand to shield his words from Peyton, "I think he's a keeper, Shar."

It took just about every ounce of my self-control to stop myself from bursting out laughing at the expression that was on Sharpay's face. _Finally_.

Sharpay shook her head, the pink fading from her cheeks. "So, Troy", she spoke up, her voice mostly level, "what's your little taste of fame been like?"

"Well, it's not really about "_me_"," I replied. "It's about _Ryan_. And that's what makes it so amazing." Seeing Ryan energized onstage, doing what he loves and basking in the applause that he more than deserves for it, _thrills _me.

And the bringing-him-a-bouquet-of-roses-before-we-have-hot-as-hell-dressing-room-sex part isn't half bad either.

Ry turned to me and we smiled at each other. The scent of roses lingering in my memory was just as fragrant as it had been on every opening night, and especially the night where we plucked all of the petals off, littered them all over the couch in a fancy dressing room in La Jolla, and made love on top of them. Oh yeah. Definitely not bad at all.

"Troy is the best company that I ever could have asked for." Ryan gave me that look that made my insides twist into a pretzel, in a good way.

I returned it.

"Your brother is touring the country?" Peyton prompted.

"He's the star of the musical _Raviver_," Sharpay informed him, her glowing eyes and bright inflection revealing that she was just as proud of her brother as I was.

Peyton looked to Ryan, awe creeping over his face as he gave a nod. "Ah."

"What can I say?" Sharpay smiled, shrugging her shoulders in the self-assured way that Ry and I were so familiar with. Her gaze moved to encompass her brother, and the two of them smiled at each other. "Our family breeds stars."

The look in Ry's eyes sent me a message, _"I wouldn't be a star if it wasn't for you"_. He was completely wrong, but at the same time, I knew that he was right, too. As he turned back out, he said to Sharpay, "I really do love the decorating job, Sis. It's so Barbie-esque!" He scrunched up his nose delightedly.

Sharpay let out a pleased giggle. "Of course!"

"It reminds me of.." Ryan started.

"…home," they finished together.

Home. That's right. Somewhere inside, the two of them would always recognize the mansion back in Albuquerque as "home", just like a part of me would always consider the house that I grew up in, "home". But our apartment, that was "home" to me, too, just like Chad's place was my home away from home.

"Home" was a surprisingly complicated subject.

We stayed to chat for a few more minutes, but then I reminded Ryan that we really had to hit the road. Sharpay made the two of us swear that we would meet up with her and Peyton to do lunch sometime. She had already bought us tickets for her show, _A Girl's Best Friend_, and made plans to drop by our place "in the very near future".

Goody.

We hugged Sharpay goodbye, wished Peyton well, patted Boi on the head, and then made our way back to the car after Ryan retrieved his hat. Once we were well out of earshot, I whispered to Ryan, "What was the deal with that Peyton guy? He gave off a real creeper vibe."

"I know! "An ambitious pink hurricane of self-confidence"," Ry lowered his voice, imitating Peyton. If I had been drinking something, it probably would have shot back out of my nose. "Honestly, who talks like that?" He shook his head.

"Hey, look on the bright-side, Ry," I offered.

He looked at me, his blue eyes glowing inquisitively.

"There's no way they're fooling around on that"pull-out bed of death"."

He giggled so loudly, it attracted stares from a couple of people standing on the sidewalk. His laugh was so freaking contagious, I had to laugh with him, even though my joke was lame.

We crossed the street and returned to the Mazda. Ry climbed right in, but I hesitated. My pulse picked up.

"Troy? Are you all right?" Ryan called to me, his door still open.

"I'm fine, babe." There was something that I had to do. I took a moment to breathe. _Be cool_, _Troy_, I instructed myself. _You've got this. _After double-checking my pocket, I made my way around the vehicle to the passenger side.

"Troy?" Ryan stared at me, blinking in surprise.

"Ry," I started. "W-" I stopped, clearing my throat. "We've been together for a little over a year. That doesn't seem like a very long time, but," I smiled. "When you know, you know, right?"

"Right." He nodded faintly, his brow beginning to furrow.

I cleared my throat again. My heart was hammering. "Anyway, I've got something kind of important I'd like to tell you. O-Okay?" I swallowed, hoping that I wasn't as nervous on the outside as I was on the inside.

"Okay." He gave me an encouraging nod.

There was no butler to help me out this time. It was all on me. Taking another deep breath, I started to sing:

_Without love,_

_ Life is like the seasons with no summer_

_ Without love,_

_ Life is rock and roll_

_ Without a drummer_

Ryan_, I'll be yours forever_

_ 'Cause I never wanna be,_

_ Without love_

I spun around, then slowly reached into my pocket. My legs were quaking, but, no matter what, I had to go for a "big finish".

_So _Ryan_, never set me free_

About halfway through the word, "never", I lost my footing, but I managed to recover the bit just in time. When I finished the note, I ended up on one knee, extending my hand to him. In my hand, sat a little black velvet box.

"Oh… my… _gosh_!" Ryan gasped. He cupped his hands around the bridge of his nose, covering his mouth. His blue eyes were wide and incredulous.

I smiled earnestly, even though it felt like I was going to have a heart attack. "Ryan Evans... will you-?"

"YES!" He cried. He pulled his hands away from his face and nodded furiously, his eyes moist. "Yes, Troy! A hundred times over- a _thousand _times over!"

My heart swelled like it really was going to explode.

Ryan offered me his hand and pulled me into the car. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, _yes_!" He elaborated, covering my face with kisses until my ears burned.

I grinned like a maniac, feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch in the entire solar system. Outside, I could hear some clapping and some whoops of congratulations for us. "Thank you!" We called out.

I wrapped my arms around Ryan's waist, he twined his arms around my neck, and we kissed deeply, my tongue scraping against his. He shivered, whimpering pleasurably into my mouth, and it was _perfect. _Before we made it impossible for both of us to move, we broke off. I flicked my tongue over his lower lip. He bit down lightly on mine.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you finish," he murmured.

"No, it was perfect. It was absolutely, phenomenally…"

"_Perfect_," we finished together.

I touched my nose to his, smiling despite the fact that I had to catch my breath. He returned my smile with equal enthusiasm. "I-It is legal in New York, now."

"I know."

I'm dead. Really. His smile _killed _me.

After several moments of us holding each other, letting the fact that we were engaged sink in, we finally adjusted ourselves. Ry put his fedora, which had been knocked off when he pulled me in, practically on top of him, back on, and I climbed back into the driver's seat. We shut the doors. So, now I'm smoothing out my hair while looking in the mirror over the dashboard. Then, I turn the key in the ignition. "How do you feel about staying in and watching a movie, tonight?" I turn to Ryan Evans, my _fiance_. "I'll cook for you." I grin playfully.

He smirks. "After you finish your essay."

"You mean my _novel_?" It started out as an introspective essay, and then somehow grew into this monster-sized thing about 100,000 words long.

"Yes, I mean your "novel", which I'd love to read, sometime." He bites down on his lip in that absolutely adorable way.

"All right." I can never refuse him, after all.

"I can't wait to see how Sharpay's going to react to this," Ryan shakes his head. "Troy Bolton is my _fiance_."

"I guess we'll have to find out." I wink at him. I shift the gear into drive, and slide my sunglasses back up the bridge of my nose. "So, off we go?"

"_Oui. Arret pour vivre le reste de nos vies tout comme un musical de lycée_." He replies.

"Bet on it." I maneuver us out of our parking place and down the street, his hand in mine. I'm ready for this new chapter of my life. Like I said before, Ryan and I have each other to catch us if one of us falls. Most importantly, though, this isn't what my dad, or Chad, or Gabriella, or the EHS Wildcats want. This is what _I_ want. Ryan handed me the pen, and I'm writing the script of my life.

And you know what? Call me cliche, or whatever, but it feels absolutely _amazing. _

_ - End_ -


End file.
